UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


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Beliefs  of  the  Unbelievers 


OTHER     DISCOURSES 


OCTAVIUS   BROOKS  FROTHINGHAM 


NEW  YORK 
G.  p.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 

FocBTH  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Stbeet. 
1876. 


i  t  't  **!  •*■*  •""  •     * 


CONTENTS. 

'  Beliefs  of  the  Uxbelikvrrs. 
The  Theist's  Faith. 
Thoughts  About  God. 
The  Livixg  God. 
Allegiaxce  to  Faith. 
-The  Despotism  of  Faith. 
Interests  ^rATKRiAi.  and  Spikituai. 
Pharisees. 

The  Cardinal's  Bkrktta. 
The  Great  Hope. 
Clogs  and  Opportunities. 


'%^-;^v\^^ 


•BELIEFS  OF  THE  UNBELIEVERS. 


In  a  Swedenborgian  book,  written  thirty  years  ago, 
on  the  Inspiration  of  the  Bible,  I  find  a  description 
of  a  •*  horrid  desart  "  occupying  hundreds  of  square 
miles  of  the  territory  that  lies  between  the  Missis- 
sippi river  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  In  this  "  fright- 
ful district,"  says  the  writer,  "  vegetation  is  mostly 
confined  to  tufts  of  withered  grass,  prickly  pears, 
and  those  succulent  and  saline  plants  which  can  de- 
rive subsistence  out  of  the  most  arid,  sandy,  and 
sterile  soils.  A  species  of  cactus,  known  as  the 
Cactus  ferox^  reigns  sole  monarch  over  myriads  of 
acres  of  these  desolate  plains.  Another  species,  call- 
ed the  Cactus  cylindricus,  grows  singly  and  forms  a 
cluster  by  itself,  increasing  to  such  a  size  that,  seen 
from  a  distance,  it  is  frequently  mistaken  for  a  bison. 
Clouds  of  locusts  fill  the  air,  uttering  shrill  and 
deafening  cries ;  while  the  Mississippi  hawk,  wheel- 


ing  through  their  ranks,  seems  to  enjoy  his  favorite 
prey.  Rattlesnakes  of  various  kinds,  and  scolopen- 
dras  of  enormous  size,  crawl  over  the  naked  surface ; 
and  immense  black  hairy  spiders,  like  the  bird-catch- 
ing animal  of  South  America,  watch  for  prey  at  the 
mouth  of  their  subterranean  habitations." 

This  bit  of  description,  which  the  author  by  the 
way,  uses  to  illustrate  the  sympathy  between  fallen 
nature  and  fallen  man,  was  taken,  he  says,  from  the 
report  of  a  government  expedition  from  Pittsburgh 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  under  the  charge  of  Mr. 
James.  I  do  not  mean  to  call  in  question  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  description,  or  to  suggest  that  Mr. 
James  saw  with  other  eyes  than  those  of  his  head, 
used  exaggerated  language  in  the  account  he  gave 
of  his  travels  in  the  then  unexplored  West,  or  con- 
sulted artistic  effects  in  the  selection  and  arrange- 
ment of  his  materials.  It  is  sufficient  for  my  pur- 
pose to  state  that  recent  surveys  feebly  justify  Mr. 
James'  description.  The  Pacific  Railroad  passes 
directly  through  this  dismal  region,  and  we  do  not 
hear  that  the  passengers  on  the  road  are  struck  with 
terror  by  the  desolation  they  witness.  A  AVestern 
gentleman  of  scientific  acquirements,  told  me  that, 
while  journeying  to  California  last  summer,  he  stood 
at  the  end  of  the  last  car  that  composed  the  train,  in 
order  that  he  might  the  better  see  this  awful  desert, 


but  it  was  not  there.  On  the  contrary,  what  he  saw 
was  a  sinyuhirl}-  hopeful  country  for  agriculture  and 
dwellings — a  country  not  smooth  yet,  or  smiling, 
but  full  of  the  promise  of  gladness. 

My  own  information  on  these  matters  is  got  at 
second  hand.  But  deeming  the  "  Xew  American 
Cyclopedia"  a  good  authority,  I  consulted  it,  and 
therein  read  that  the  vast  plain  east  of  the  Kocky 
Mountains,  including  the  great  lakes  and  mighty 
rivers,  is  the  most  fertile  region  of  the  continent.  A 
Mr.  Frost,  of  Nebraska,  stated  some  time  ago,  tliat 
he  had  been  searching  ten  years  for  the  '"  Great 
American  Desert,"  and  had  found  a  tract  of  country 
that  would  support  the  millions  of  a  future  popula- 
tion. If  Mr.  James  reported  correctly  the  superficial 
aspect  of  the  country,  he  did  not  do  justice  to  the 
geological  character  of  the  soil. 

Similar  accounts  come  to  us  of  intellectual  and 
moral  deserts — great  spaces  of  territory  or  of  time, 
covered  with  the  prickly  thorns  of  disbelief,  cursed 
with  poisonous  vegetable  growths,  infested  by  deadly 
serpents,  made  hideous  by  unclean  animals,  and 
awful  by  the  dark  flapping  of  demoniac  wings.  Such 
a  district  the  Roman  empire  is  supposed  to  have  been 
previous  to  the  coming  of  Christ.  Most  Christians, 
taking  the  report  of  prejudiced  explorers  who  have 
skirted  the  region  with  o-uides  sworn   to  tell  what 


their  employers  wished  to  hear,  or  who  have  arrived 
at  their  knowledge  through  the  powerful  lenses  of 
an  evangelical  faith,  think  even  now  of  that  reach 
of  history  as  an  utterly  Godless  tract  of  time,  a  land 
of  darkness  as  of  darkness  itself,  and  where  the 
light  was  as  darkness.  The  wise  know  better.  The 
scholarship  of  our  generation,  using  finer  instruments 
and  possessing  a  more  perfect  method,  has  reclaimed 
that  once  frightful  domain  of  history.  We  know 
that  human  nature  exhibited  there  all  its  attributes, 
its  best  as  well  as  its  worst ;  that  it  hoped,  trusted, 
prayed,  believed,  endeavored,  and  attained ;  that  it 
produced  sages,  reformers,  and  saints ;  grew  philoso- 
phers by  the  dozen,  noble  men  and  Avomen  by  the 
score;  that  it  rectified  laws,  remedied  abuses,  re^ 
strained  crime,  rebuked  vice,  and  in  the  usual  way 
pushed  itself  out  into  the  light  and  atmosphere  of 
virtue. 

Renan's  great  chapter  in  the  "  Apostles,"  on  the 
condition- of  the  world  about  the  middle  of  the  second 
century,  makes  it  pretty  clear  that  the  period  of  time 
so  long  regarded  as  given  over  to  the  devil,  was 
neither  worse  nor  better  than  it  ought  to  have  been ; 
that  it  lay  directly  in  the  track  of  historic  progress, 
contained  the  fruits  of  the  ages  that  preceded,  and 
had  in  its  bosom  the  seeds  of  the  ages  that  were  to 
follow. 


Mr.  Lecky,  too,  in  his  "  European  Morals,"  makes 
it  appear  that  the  Roman  empire  neither  experienced 
conversion  nor  needed  it ;  that  it  was  prepared  to  re- 
ceive the  best  that  Christianity  had  to  give ;  that  in 
fact  it  was  in  condition  to  improve  Christianity  in 
some  important  details,  and  did,  in  some  respects^ 
modify  it  for  the  better,  whUe  itself  modified  by  it 
for  the  worse.  Thus,  one  by  one,  the  deserts  ai'e  re- 
claimed, and  shapes  of  moral  grandeur  are  revealed 
in  spots  where  nothing  was  supposed  able  to  exist. 

It  is  my  purpose,  in  this  lecture,  to  make  a  short 
excursion  into  the  dreaded  shadow-land  of  so-called 
Infidelity,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  thence  fruits 
of  belief  and  hope.  Would  that  I  might,  partially 
at  least,  recover  to  solid  respect  those  ghostly  regions, 
give  reassurance  to  timid  travellers  who  venture  near 
them,  and  persuade  the  doubting  that  beneath  the 
bogs  and  the  briars  there  is  a  layer  of  strong  and 
fertile  soil.  The  region  I  explore  is  indefinite  in  ex- 
tent and  outline  ;  I  have  no  intention  of  mapping  it 
out  scientifically.  The  fruits  I  bring  thence,  though 
not  hastily  snatched,  are  but  specimens.  You  will 
not  find  fault  with  me  for  bringing  you  the  best  I 
could  procure.  With  the  worst  side  of  "  Infidelity  " 
I  suppose  you  all  to  be  familiar.  You  must  have 
read  little  and  absented  yourselves  from  church  a 
good  deal  if  you  are  not.     Candor  requires  that  the 


8 

better  side  should  be  shown.  Though  exaggeration 
on  the  one  part  might  excuse  exaggeration  on  the 
other,  I  will  try  not  to  exaggerate.  Misrepresenta- 
tion does  not  justify  misrepresentation,  nor  does 
falsehood  warrant  falsehood.  The  only  thing  worth 
having  is  truth.  I  simply  give  you  fair  warning 
that  I  shall  present  the  attractive  side  of  the  truth. 
You  have  had  the  shadow  without  the  light.  There 
is  no  injustice  in  giving  you  the  light  without  the 
shadow. 

In  every  age  of  Christendbm  there  have  been  men 
whom  the  Church  named  "  infidels,"  and  thrust  down 
into  the  abyss  of  moral  reprobation.  The  oldest  of 
these  are  forgotten  with  the  generations  that  gave  them 
birth.  The  only  ones  now  actively  anathematized 
lived  within  the  last  hundred  years,  and  owe  the 
blackness  of  their  reputation  to  the  assaults  they  made 
on  superstitions  that  still  are  powerful,  and  dogmas 
that  are  still  supreme.  The  names  of  Chubb,  Toland, 
and  Tindal,  of  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  Shaftesbury, 
and  Bolingbroke,  though  seldom  spoken  now,  are 
mentioned,  when  they  are  mentioned,  with  bitterness. 
The  names  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  recall  at  once 
venomous  verdicts  that  our  own  ears  have  heard. 
The  memory  of  Thomas  Paine  is  still  a  stench  in 
modern  nostrils,  though  he  has  been  dead  sixty  years, 
so  deep  a  stamp  of  damnation  has  been  fixed  on  his 


name.  Even  a  man  so  avcU  iiiU'iniuiied  as  Adam 
Storey  Farrar.  autliur  of  a  "'C'riiical  ]Ii>i(iry  (»!'  I-'rcc 
Tliouylit.'"  a  l)uok  stcTilc  and  cold.  l)iu  admiralilc  in 
the  main  for  lis  c-andtn'.  and  A\'ritton  l)_v  a  man  wlio 
must  liave  studied  ]ns  lliemes  I'or  himself,  falls  into 
tlie  vulgar  tone  of  the  pid^jit  ^^  hen  sjieakiiii;'  of  these 
men  "who  dared  to  reject  the  prevailiuL;'  heliefs  of 
Christendom.  It  will  l.)e  years  l)ef  >re  the  g'ra>s  will 
be  allowed  to  grow  green  on  their  graves. 

Skepties  they  were — I  claiui  for  them  that  honor. 
It  is  their  title  to  innnortality.  Douhtless  tliey  were, 
^  in  many  tilings,  deniers,  ••  iiilidcls."  if  you  will. 
They  made  slutrt  work  of  creed  and  catechism,  of 
sacrament  and  }niest.  of  tradition  and  fornuda.  ]\Ii- 
raculous  revelations,  inspired  Uiljle's.  authoritative 
dogmas,  dying  Gods  and  atoning  Savi(uirs.  ird'alllhle 
apostles  and  churches  founchMl  hy  the  Holy  (ilmst, 
ecelesiastical  heavens  and  liells.  witli  otlier  fictions  of 
the  sort,  their  minds  cotild  not  harhor.  They  criticized 
mercilessly  the  drama  t»f  Redemption,  and  spoke  more 
rotighly  than  prudently  of  the  great  mysteries  of  the 
Godhead.  But.  after  their  fasliion.  they  were  gi'cat  he- 
lievers.  In  the  interest  of  faith  they  dotd)ted.  in  the 
interest  of  faith  they  denied.  Tlieir  -Xay '"  ^\as  an 
uncouth  method  of  pronouncing  "  Yea."  They  were 
after  the  truth,  and  supposed  themselves  to  l:)e  remov- 
ing   a    rubbish    pile    to    reach    it.     Tot.AXD.    ^^hose 


10 

"  Christianity  not  Mysterious  "  was  presented  by  the 
Grand  Jury  of  Dublin  and  condemned  to  the  flames 
by  the  Irish  Parliament,  while  the  author  fled  from 
government  prosecution  to  England,  professed  him- 
self sincerely  attached  to  the  pure  religion  of  Jesus, 
and  anxious  to  exhibit  it  free  from  the  corruptions 
of  aftertimes.  Thomas  Paine  wrote  his  "  Age  of 
Reason  "  as  a  check  to  the  progress  of  French  atheism, 
fearing  "  lest,  in  the  general  wreck  of  superstition,  of 
false  systems  of  government,  and  false  theology,  we 
lose  sight  of  morality,  of  humanity,  and  of  the  theo- 
logy that  is  true."  * 
One  Edwards,  in  a  savory  book  called  "  Gangrsena," 
done  in  1646,  enumerates  one  hundred  and  eighty 
"  flagrant  heresies"  even  then  corroding  the  heart  of 
England.  Here  are  a  few  of  them  taken  from  his 
list:  That  the  living  Word  is  the  Christ,  not  the 
Scripture ;  that  we  may  walk  with  God  as  well  as 
the  patriarchs ;  that  half  the  glory  of  God  has  not  been 
revealed,  we  must  wait  for  the  Spirit's  disclosures  to 
our  hearts ;  that  the  spirit  that  moved  the  penmen 
of  Scripture  was  their  own  ;  that  right  reason  is  the 
rule  of  faith ;  that  there  should  be  free  toleration  for 
all  consciences,  and  no  punishment  for  blasphemy, 
disbelief  in  the  Bible,  or  denial  of  the  existence  of  a 
God ;  that  God  is  one,  not  three ;  that  Christ  was 
not  by  nature  holier  than  we ;  that  Christ  came  to 


11 

declare  the  love  of  God,  not  to  purchase  it ;  that  men 
may  be  saved  without  Christ ;  that  all  men  will  at 
last  be  saved.  There  were  some  pestilent  fellows  at 
that  time  it  seems,  who  declared  it  to  be  the  sin  of 
the  kingdom  "  that  the  Jews  were  not  allowed  the 
open  profession  and  exercise  of  their  religion."  These 
opinions  are  common-place  now.  Some  of  them  have 
quietly  ensconced  themselves  in  "orthodox  "  churches 
and  are  welcomed  as  the  latest  disclosures  of  the 
Spirit. 

These  devout  unbeliefe  were  born  of  the  spirit  of 
the  age.  It  was  an  age — ^rather  let  me  call  it  a  series 
of  ages — ^in  which  great  events  occurred.  There  had 
been  a  terrible  shaking  of  thrones  and  altars.  The 
axe  had  fallen  on  the  neck  of  a  king,  and  the  halberd 
had  smitten  the  images  of  many  saints.  Scarcely  an 
authority  stood  fast.  Not  one  was  unchallenged. 
The  brain  of  Bacon  had  discharged  its  force  into  the 
intellectual  world.  Newton's  torch  was  flinging  its 
beams  to  the  confines  of  creation.  The  national 
genius  sparkled  in  constellations  of  brilliant  men ; 
continental  literature  was  pouring  into  England ; 
the  speculative  mind  of  Holland,  the  dramatic  writing 
and  criticism  of  France.  There  was  new  thought 
and  fresh  purpose,  a  determination  to  know  and  do 
something,  a  sense  of  intellectual  and  moral  power 
that  portended  great  changes  in  Church  and  State- 


12 

The  infidels  were  the  men  who  felt  this  spirit  first. 
They  were  its  children ;  they  gave  it  voice  ;  it  gave 
them  strength.  They  trusted  in  it.  Fidelity  to  its 
call  was  their  faith.  They  believed'in  the  sovereignty 
'  of  reason,  the  rights  of  the  individual  conscience,  and 
they  cherished  a  generous  confidence  in  the  impulses 
\  of  an  emancipated  and  ennobled  humanity.  They 
had  that  faith  in  human  nature  which,  indeed,  is,  and 
ever  has  been,  the  faith  of  faiths.  It  is  a  faith  hard  to 
hold.  These  infidels  must  have  found  it  so  in  their 
time.  When  shall  we  honor,  at  its  due,  the  heroism 
of  protest,  the  valor  of  disbelief?  When  shall  we 
give  to  the  martyrdom  of  Denial  its  glorious  crown  ? 

If  one  thing  be  clear  it  is,  that  faith  is  large  in 
proportion  as  it  dares  to  put  things  to  the  proof. 
Fear  and  laziness  can  accept  beliefs — onl}'  trust  and 
courage  will  question  them.  To  reject  consecrated 
opinions  demands  a  consecrated  mind.  At  all  events, 
the  moving  impulse  to  such  rejection  is  faith ;  faith 
in  reason  ;  faith  in  the  mind's  ability  to  attain  truth ; 
faith  in  the  power  of  thought,  in  the  priceless  worth 
of  knowledge.  The  great  skeptic  must  be  a  great 
believer.  None  have  so  magnificently  affirmed  as 
those  who  have  audaciously  denied ;  none  so  devoutly 
trusted  as  they  who  have  sturdily  protested.  Not 
willingly  do  good  men  undermine  deep-planted  be- 
liefs, or  throw  precious  hopes  away.     Small  pleasure 


13 

does  it  give  to  noble  minds  to  pull  down  roofs  Ijenoath 
which  for  ages  people  have  found  shelter.  If  tlu-y 
are  indiftereut  to  others'  sorrow,  they  mu^t  have 
some  tliought  for  themselves.  Is  there  pleasure  in 
braving  ill-will,  hate,  persecution,  in  order  that  we 
may  belittle  the  world  and  ourselves  ?  Is  it  such  a 
privilege  to  be  without  faith  in  the  world,  that  men 
are  willing  to  lay  down  their  lives  for  it?  Is  it  true, 
as  I  read  lately  on  a  sarcastic  page,  that  •' the  most 
advanced  thinker  of  our  time  takes  an  enlightened 
pride  in  his  father,  the  monkey  ?  That  when  he  has 
sunk  his  pedigree  as  man,  and  adopted  as  family  tree 
a  procession  of  baboons,  superior  enlightmcnt  radiates 
fropa  his  very  person,  and  his  place  of  honor  is  fixed 
in  the  illuminated  brotherhood?  "  There  are  few  who 
profess  such  a  creed,  but  if  there  be  any  such,  what 
martyrs  so  devoted  as  they,  who  are  willing  to 
abrogate  humanity  in  the  cause  of  knowledge,  and  to 
immolate  their  immortal  being  on  the  altar  of  Creative 
Law  !  The  great  provers  have  dared  to  proA'e  because 
they  were  sure  their  proving  must  result  in  the 
establishment  of  truth.  They  heated  up  their  crucibles 
and  threw  in  their  gems,  because  they  expected  to 
find  at  the  bottom  the  stone  that  turned  everything 
to  gold.  They  asked  questions,  because  they  expected 
answers.  They  doubted,  because  they  knew  there 
was  a  solution.     They  said  Xo  to  the   assertions  of 


14 

men  because  they  said  Ay  to  some  far-off  affirmation 
of  reason  they  had  caught  a  whisper  of.  They  put 
off  from  shore  because  they  were  confident  that 

If  their  bark  sank  'twas  to  another  sea. 

They  drew  the  veil  from  before  the  Holy  of  Holies 
because  they  wanted  it  and  not  the  curtain.  No 
men  have  held  such  fundamental  beliefs  as  the  men 
who  have  promulgated  the  most  audacious  denials. 

The  beliefs  of  the  unbelievers  being  fundamental 
are  few.  The  creed  of  the  infidel  is,  of  necessity, 
short.  The  creed  of  the  Mussulman  is  short — "  There 
is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mahomet  is  His  Prophet" — 
but  it  has  one  article  to  spare.  Francis  W.  Newman's 
creed  is  short — "  God  is  a  righteous  Governor,  who 
loves  the  righteous  and  answers  prayers  for  righteous- 
ness " — but  this  is  capable  of  being  abbreviated  by 
omitting  the  last  clause.  Without  attempting  a  sum- 
mary statement,  let  me  tell  briefly  what  individual 
unbelievers  have  believed: — Herbert  of  Cher- 
bury  believed  in  a  universal  religion,  implanted  in 
the  minds  of  all  men,  and  evidenced  to  their  intui- 
tions of  truth  by  its  intrinsic  character.  The  pillars 
of  this  faith  were :  the  existence  of  One  Supreme 
God ;  the  duty  of  worship ;  the  efficacy  of  repent- 
ance ;  a  future  life,  with  rewards  and  punishments. 
CiiARLES  Blount  held  to  the  belief  in  a  God  who 


15 

was  to  be  Avorshipped,  not  by  sacrifice  or  mediation, 
but  by  piety,  and  whose  nature  forbade  him  to  punish 
any  hereafter.  Matthew  Tindal  asserted  the  im- 
mutability of  God,  and  the  perfection  of  his  law  as 
being  the  expression  of  etern  al  truth,  and  as  binding 
on  rational  creatures  throughout  the  universe  ;  thus 
abolishing  the  distinction  between  natural  and  re- 
vealed religion,  and  making  the  first  foremost.  Lord 
Shaftesbury  opposed  the  sensational  philosophy  of 
Locke,  and  maintained  the  existence  of  an  immutable 
principle  of  faith  and  duty  in  the  breast  as  the  only 
secure  foundation  for  moral  and  religious  ideas.  A 
high  authority — no  less  an  authority  than  Sir  James 
ISLvcKiNTOSH — declares  that  Shaftesbury's  "  Inquiry 
Concerning  Virtue  "  contains  more  original  and  im- 
portant views  on  the  theory  of  morals  than,  perhaps, 
any  preceding  work  of  modern  times.  It  was 
Shaftesbury  who  broached  the  doctrine  of  unselfish 
beneficence.  It  was  he  who  defined  goodness  as  dis- 
interested love  for  the  system  of  which  we  form  a, 
part.  It  was  he  who  introduced  the  theory  of  a 
Moral  Sense,  which  approves  virtue  for  its  own  sake. 
The  delight  of  virtue  and  the  agony  of  vice  were 
favorite  topics  of  Shaftesbury's  eloquence.  This 
infidel  taught  that  goodness  was  its  own  reward,  and 
badness  its  own  punishment ;  that  Love  was  the 
keeping  of  the  Law.    Anthony  Collins,  another 


16 

terrible  name,  charged  with  fatalism  and  materialism, 
received  from  the  aged  Locke  a  letter  in  which 
occurs  this  sentence :  "  Believe  it,  my  good  friend,  to 
love  truth  for  truth's  sake  is  the  princii)al  part  of 
human  perfection  in  this  world,  and  the  seed  plot  of 
all  other  virtues ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  have  as 
much  of  it  as  ever  I  met  with  in  anybody."  Thomas 
Chubb  referred  Christianity,  along  with  other  relig- 
ions, to  the  law  written  on  the  heart,  and  defined 
virtue  as  simple  conformity  to  the  eternal  rule  of 
righteousness  which  God  has  immutably  fixed.  He 
expressed  a  hope  that  he  might  be  "  a  sharer  of  the 
divine  favor  in  that  peaceful  and  happy  state  which 
God  has  prepared  for  the  virtuous  and  faithful  in 
some  other  future  world." 

BoLiNGBROKE — the  in.spirer  of  "  Pope's  Essay  on 
Man,"  that  poem  whose  brilliancy  of  statement  would 
alone  give  it  fame — taught  belief  in  the  existence  of 
a  Supreme  Being  of  infinite  wisdom  and  power ;  the 
government  of  the  world  by  general  laws  established 
in  the  beginning  and  never  suspended;  a  rule  of 
duty  too  clear  to  need  light  from  revelation ;  the 
piety  of  gratitude  and  resignation  ;  the  preciousness 
of  the  pure  religion  of  love  taught  by  Jesus  ;  and  the 
needlessness  of  another  life  to  reward  goodness  which 
was  its  own  reward,  or  to  punish  evil  which  brought 
with  it  its  own  doom. 


17 

In  England,  infidelity  planted  itself  on  reason  ana 
common-sense,  stood  by  the  broad  facts  of  the  moral 
nature,  maintained  the  unity  of  God,  the  perfect 
order  of  the  world,  and  the  final  welfare  of  all  crea- 
tures in  it. 

French  infidelity  had  another  cast.  The  English 
infidel  was  by  privilege  a  philosopher.  The  French 
infidel  was  by  necessity  a  revolutionist.  Eminent 
Frenchmen  of  the  last  century  went  into  ecstacies 
over  the  intellectual  freedom  of  England.  "  How  I 
love  the  boldness  of  the  English !  "  exclaimed  Vol- 
taire ;  "  How  I  love  men  who  say  what  they  think  ! " 
"  The  English,"  said  Le  Blanc,  "  are  willing  to  have 
a  king,  provided  they  are  not  obliged  to  obey  him." 
"Their  system,"  said  Montesquieu,  "is  a  republic 
disguised  as  a  monarchy."  Mably  added,  "  The 
Hanoverians  are  only  able  to  reign  in  England  be- 
cause the  people  are  free  and  believe  they  have  a 
right  to  dispose  of  the  crown."  "  In  England,"  said 
Helvetius,  "  the  people  are  respected.  Every  citizen 
can  take  some  part  in  the  management  of  affairs,  and 
authors  are  allowed  to  enlighten  the  public  respect- 
ing its  interests."  Grosley  exclaimed,  in  amazement : 
"  Property  is  in  England  a  thing  sacred  even  from 
the  king  himself." 

Well  might  they  be  astonished,  poor  men !  for 
nothing  of  all  this  could  be  said  of  their  own  country. 


18 

Buckle  crowds  ten  pages  of  his  first  volume  with  in- 
stances of  brutal  persecution  of  literary  men  by  the 
government.  He  questions  whether  one  literary  man 
in  fifty  escaped  punishment  for  purely  literary  of- 
fences. Among  the  authors  who  suffered  either  con- 
fiscation, or  imprisonment,  or  fine,  or  exile,  or  the 
suppression  of  their  Avorks,  or  the  ignominy  of  being 
forced  to  recant  what  they  had  written,  he  finds  the 
name  of  nearly  every  Frenchman  whose  writings 
have  survived  the  age  in  which  they  were  produced. 
On  the  bare  suspicion  of  having  composed  a  libel  on 
the  dead  king,  Louis  XIV.,  Voltaire,  without  trial 
and  without  proof,  was  confined  in  the  Bastile  more 
than  a  year.  For  demanding  satisfaction  from  a 
beastly  noble  who  had  outrageously  insulted  and 
assailed  him,  he  was  again  imprisoned  there  six 
months.  His  history  of  Charles  XII.,  was  no  sooner 
printed  than  its  circulation  was  forbidden.  His 
"  Philosophic  Letters "  were  on  the  most  frivolous 
pretext  ordered  to  be  burned  by  the  common  hang- 
man, and  their  author  was  once  more  arrested.  He 
wished  to  communicate  to  his  countrymen  the  dis- 
coveries of  Newton,  but  the  authorities  forbade  it. 
Rousseau  was  threatened  with  imprisonment,  exiled, 
and  his  works  were  publicly  burned.  The  treatise 
of  Helvetius  on  the  Mind  was  suppressed  by  order  of 
the  Royal  Council,  and  burned  by  the  common  hang- 


19 

man ;  the  author  was  compelled  to  retract  his  opin- 
ions. The  first  original  work  of  Diderot,  the  "  Pen- 
sees  Philosophiques,"  was  ordered  to  be  publicly 
burned  by  the  common  hangman.  For  another  work, 
his  "  Letters  on  the  Blind,"  in  which  some  sagacious 
hints  were  thrown  out  touching  the  effect  of  blind- 
ness on  mental  development,  the  unhappy  author  was 
arrested  and  confined  in  the  Dungeons  of  Vincen-  • 
nes. 

Before  the  first  revolution,  France  had  neither  free 
press,  free  parliament,  nor  free  debates.  There  were 
no  public  meetings,  no  popular  discussions.  There 
was  no  suffrage,  no  habeas  corpus  act,  no  trial  by 
jury.  A  government  decree  forbade  the  publication 
of  any  work  in  which  questions  of  government  were 
discussed.  Another  made  it  a  capital  offence  to 
write  a  book  likely  to  excite  the  public  mind.  A 
third  denounced  the  punishment  of  death  against  any 
one  who  spoke  of  matters  of  finance,  or  who  attacked 
religion. 

The  whole  intellect  of  France  thus  threatened, 
insulted,  goaded  to  madness,  rose  in  insurrection 
against  the  government ;  but  the  only  hopeful  way 
of  assailing  the  government  was  to  assail  the  Church. 
On  the  religious  side  the  State  was  weak.  Religion 
had  no  such  hold  on  the  popular  mind  as  royalty  had. 
Divinity  hedged  the  king  but  not  the  priest.     The 


20 

Church,  was  subordinate  to  the  Crown.  The  clergy 
had  greatly  degenerated  in  character  and  influence. 
Not  only  did  they  fail  to  command  reverence  by  their 
virtues,  they  even  forfeited  respect  by  calling  grossly 
immoral  men  to  places  of  ecclesiastical  dignity.  They 
preached  a  morality  they  did  not  practice.  "  The 
French  Church,"  said  De  Tocqueville,  in  his  "  An- 
cien  Regime,"  though  not  more  oppressive  than  the 
civil  power,  was  more  detested ;  for  it  interfered 
against  its  vocation  and  nature.  It  often  sanctioned 
in  its  own  members  vices  that  it  censured  in  those 
outside,  cloaking  them  with  its  garment  of  inviolabil- 
ity, and  apparently  wishing  to  make  them  immortal 
like  itself." 

More  than  this.  It  was  through  the  Church  that 
the  State  irritated  and  rasped  the  intellect  of  the  na- 
tion. The  supervision  of  thought  and  the  censorship 
of  the  press  were  in  its  hands.  Thus  in  defense  of 
their  personal  rights,  as  well  as  of  intellectual  liberty 
in  general,  the  men  of  thought  assailed  religion. 
Feeble  at  once,  and  odious,  implicated  in  the  iniqui- 
ties of  the  government,  yet  sharing  neither  the 
government's  prestige  nor  power,  hated  for  its  despotic 
will,  despised  for  its  servile  temper,  an  object  of 
attack  but  not  of  veneration,  vulnerable  in  creed 
and  rite,  in  the  acts  of  its  great  officials  and  in  the 
private    character    of   its    subordinate    clergy — the 


21 

Church  of  France  offered  the  first  point  to  the  attack 
of  outraged  genius. 

Circumstances  rendered  the  attack  headlong  and 
furious.  A  change  of  circumstances  brought  reaction 
and  revenge.  The  return  of  imperialism  brought  a 
return  of  ecclesiasticism.  The  Church  regained  its 
power  and  piled  infamy  on  the  names  of  its  enemies. 
The  disinfecting  beams  of  knowledge  are  decomposing 
that  mass  of  ordure.  We  see  now  that  these  men 
lived  and  died  in  the  faith ;  that  their  courage  was 
kindled  at  the  upper,  not  the  nether  fires ;  that  they 
spoke  because  they  believed ;  that  the  love  of  truth 
and  the  love  of  humanity  constrained  them;  that 
their  foes  were  dogmatism  and  superstition — those 
demons  of  the  pit  that  always  succeed  in  blackening 
and  defaming  those  who. touch  them.  We  see  that 
their  allies  were  knowledge,  intelligence,  faith,  and 
hope.  We  have  heard  till  we  are  sick  of  the  destruc- 
tion they  brought  on  holy  things.  We  are  beginning 
to  hear  of  the  magnificent  work  of  regeneration 
which  they  projected.  The  word  given  me  to  say  is, 
that  these  unbelievers  believed ;  these  infidels  had  souls 
of  faith. 

No  justice  is  done  to  the  faith  of  these  men  by  a 
bare  enumeration  of  their  religious  opinions.  It  is 
interesting  to  know  that  Voltaire  believed  in  a  per- 
sonal God,  and  argued  in  favor  of  immortality.    The 


22 

inscription  on  his  tomb,  "  He  combatted  the  Athe- 
ists," wears  an  impressive  look.  But  Voltaire  Avas 
neither  philosopher  nor  theologian,  and  spent  no  con- 
siderable portion  of  his  brain  force  on  abstract  prob- 
lems. His  faith  was  in  live  mind,  and  this  faith  came 
out  in  his  application  of  the  scientific  method  to 
sacred  history  and  of  the  laws  of  reason  to  sacred 
books,  imperfect  though  that  application  may  have 
been,  imperfect  as  it  necessarily  was.  His  faith  in 
divine  justice  and  in  human  kindness  appears  in  his 
steady  protest  against  the  use  of  torture,  the  death 
penalty,  and  the  confiscation  of  property.  It  appears 
in  his  incessant  desire  for  prison  reform,  for  repeal  of 
the  laws  against  sacrilege,  for  absolute  liberty  of 
conscience.  It  comes  out  again  in  his  strenuous 
opposition  to  slavery  and  serfdom,  and  the  sacred 
barbarism,  of  war.  "We  may  count  him,"  said 
Condorcet,  "  among  the  very  few  men  whose  love 
of  humanity  amounted  to  a  passion."  I  read  Vol- 
taire's confessions  of  faith  in  such  sentences  as 
these : 

"  As  the  law  of  gravitation,  so  the  fundamental 
moral  law  acts  with  equal  force  on  all  nations." 

"  The  best  government  is  that  in  which  all  condi- 
tions are  equally  protected  by  the  laws." 

"  If  we  paint  justice  with  bandaged  eyes,  we  should 
put  reason  with  her  to  guide  her  steps." 


23 

"  The  God  who  is  worthiest  our  adoration  is  the 
Deity  who  can  create  rational  beings." 

"  The  sentiment  of  justice  is  so  natural,  so  univer- 
sally acquired  by  all  mankind,  that  it  seems  to  me 
independent  of  all  law,  all  party,  all  religion." 

"  You  priests  who  would  emulate  Jesus,  be  nJartyrs, 
and  not  butchers." 

"  Nature  says  to  all  men  :  You  are  born  weak  and 
ignorant.  Being  weak,  help  yourselves ;  being  igno- 
rant, get  knowledge.  I  have  given  you  arms  to  cul- 
tivate the  soil,  and  a  glimmer  of  reason  to  guide  your 
steps.  And  I  have  put  in  your  hearts  a  germ  of 
sympathy,  that  you  may  help  one  another  to  support 
life.  Stifle  not  that  germ,  neither  corrupt  it ;  know 
that  it  is  divine,  and  beware  how  for  the  voice  of 
nature  you  substitute  the  miserable  janglings  of  the 
school." 

"  The  human  race  prefers  struggle  to  dependence, 
as  horses  prefer  the  wild  plain  to  the  stall." 

Sentences  like  these,  scattered  all  over  his  pages, 
and  written,  most  of  them,  in  heart's  blood,  attest  the 
fact  that  this  terrible  infidel  had  a  soul  of  faith  great 
enough  f,o  save  him.  It  saved  more  beside,  in  his 
own  time  and  since. 

But  what  can  we  say  for  Diderot,  the  Atheist  ? 
This  at  least,  that  in  toiling  as  he  did  over  the  famous 
Cylop(gdia^  that  renowned  manifesto  of  infidelity,  he 


24 

sought  to  spread,  deepen,  and  confirm  the  spirit  of 
justice  and  humanity  that  was  promising  so  much  for 
the  new  age.  His  inspiration  was  the  spirit  of  intel- 
ligence, not  the  spirit  of  disbelief.  It  was  Diderot  who 
replied  to  the  friend  who  warned  him  of  the  dangers 
that  beset  his  path,  and  urged  him  to  flee  :  "  O  Solon, 
Solon !  what  would  life  be  worth  to  me  if  I  must 
preserve  it  at  the  price  of  all  that  makes  it  dear  I 
Every  morning  I  wake  in  hope  to  find  that  the  wicked  . 
have  all  been  converted  during  the  night,  and  that 
the  fanatics  are  no  more."  And  it  is  of  Diderot  that 
the  following  touching  story  is  told :  Walking  one 
day  in  the  fields  with  a  friend,  the  philosopher 
plucked  an  ear  of  corn,  and  fell  a-musing  over  it. 
"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  asked  the  friend.  "  Listen- 
ing," was  the  reply.  "  Who  is  speaking  to  you  ?  " 
"  God."  "  Well,  what  does  he  say  ?  "  "  He  speaks 
in  Hebrew.  The  heart  comprehends ;  but  the  under- 
standing is  at  fault." 

This  man's  atheism,  then,  was  the  protest  of  a 
glowing  heart  against  a  freezing  divinity ;  the  cry 
for  a  large  God,  instead  of  a  small  one ;  the  longing 
for  a  God  who  could  feel.  "  Madmen  !  "  he  shouted 
to  the  ecclesiastics;  "tear  down  the  walls  that  im- 
prison your  ideas  !  Extend  your  Godhead !  Confess 
that  He  is  everywhere,  or  deny  that  He  is  at  all." 

But  surely  no  good  thing  can  be  urged  for  materi- 


2$ 

alists  like  Helvetius,  or  Baron  d'Holbackh.  Vainly 
will  you  attempt  to  show  us  their  faith,  or  count  up 
their  beliefs.  To  be  sure  the  articles  are  few.  But 
that  is  the  best  reason  for  doing  justice  to  them,  such 
as  they  are.  These  men  rose  in  such  wrath  against 
the  Church,  and  struck  at  it  so  fiercely,  that  they 
smote  away  the  last  vestige  of  religious  opinion,  leav- 
ing neither  conscious  God  nor  personal  immortality ; 
neither  intelligent  soul  nor  spiritual  substance.  Man 
was,  in  their  view,  an  ingenious  piece  of  mechanism, 
worked  by  the  spring  of  selfishness.  They  were 
something  of  Napoleon's  mind,  that  the  heart  had  its 
seat  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  hunger  ruled  the 
world.  Fear  of  pain,  love  of  pleasure,  there  you  have 
their  secret  of  human  nature.  Their  universe  was  a 
machine.  Well,  but  it  was  a  live  machine  and  perfect^ 
ruled  and  directed  by  natural  laws,  the  observance 
of  which  is  happiness.  Let  priests  and  kings  keep 
off  their  hands.  Abolish  fanaticism;  put  away  su- 
perstition ;  let  men  follow  their  instincts  ;  give  place 
to  common  sense ;  find  the  natural  laws,  understand 
them,  obey  them,  and  the  prayer,  "  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,"  will  be  answered.  Mr- 
Beecher,  announcing  a  lecture  by  Dr.  Furness,  re- 
marked that  some  men  will  do  more  with  a  jack- 
knife  than  others  will  with  a  complete  chest  of  tools. 
I  have  a  friend  who  says,    "  There  is  one  God  ;  and 


26 

Selvetius  is  Sis  prophet,  and  I  know  no  more  hope- 
ful enthusiast  than  he.  He  affirms  like  a  preacher, 
proselytes  like  an  apostle,  and  hopes  like  a  saint. 
V  His  "  natural  laws  "  wear  all  the  attributes  of  Deity  ; 
and  the  promise  of  fidelity  to  the  organized  divinity 
sutshines  that  of  the  Messianic  Millenium. 

Sensible  men  have  done  talking  of  the  infidelity 
of  Rousseau,  the  apostle  of  sentiment  in  religion,  the 
prophet  of  the  conscience,  the  champion  of  the  intui- 
tions, the  passionate  eulogist  of  Jesus,  the  serious  • 
enthusiast,  with  the  fire-mist  of  faith  in  his  heart,  and 
words  of  kindling  eloquence  on  his  lips.  The  senti- 
mentalists are  getting  their  glory  now  by  repeating 
this  infidel's  thoughts  on  the  absolute  goodness  of 
God  and  the  large  hospitality  of  heaven.  Our  repub- 
lican state  is  not  more  indebted  to  him  for  its  idea  of 
man,  than  is  our  liberal  church  for  its  idea  of  Deity. 

Let  us  come  now  to  Tom  Paine — (his  name  was 
Thomas,  but  that  name,  being  Christian,  is  not  given 
him  yet  by  respectable  people) — Tom  Paine,  then — 
"  The  man  of  three  countries,  and  disowned  by  all  " — 
"  English  in  his  deism,  American  in  his  radicalism, 
French  in  his  temper  of  scoffing ; "  the  bugbear  of  the- 
priest ;  the  Anti-Christ  of  the  preacher.  How  many 
of  his  accusers  have  ever  read  his  writings  ?  How 
many  who  calumniate  his  character  have  taken  pains 
to  search  his  opinions  ?     How  many  who  denounce 


27 

his  opinions  have  thonght  it  worth  tlicir  Avhilc  to  ex- 
amine his  life  ?  The  *•  Age  of  Reason  '"  opens  Avitli  this 
com|)rehensive  statement  : 

"  I  believe  in  one  (Jod  and  no  more  ;  and  I  liope 
for  hap}>iness  beyond  this  life. 

"  I  believe  the  cqnalit y  of  man  ;  and  I  believe  that 
religions  dnties  consist  in  doing  jnstice,  loving  mercy 
and  endeavoring  to  make   onr   fellow  creatnres  hap- 

py-" 

Further  on  we  read  :  '•  The  word  of  God  is  the 
creation  we  behold.  It  is  an  existing  original  which 
every  man  can  read.  It  cannot  be  forged  :  it  cannot 
be  connterfeitcd ;  it  camiot  be  lo>t  ;  it  cannot  be  al- 
tered, it  cannot  be  sn})pressed.  It  publishes  itself 
from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other.  It  preaches 
to  all  nations  and  to  all  worlds  :  and  this  word  reveals 
to  man  all  it  is  neccessary  for  him  to  know  of  God."' 

And  again  :  "  The  true  Deist  has  but  one  deity; 
and  his  religion  consists  in  contemplating  his  power, 
wisdom,  and  l)enignity,  and  in  endeavoring  to  imitate 
him  in  everything  moral,  scientific,  and  mechanical." 

And  once  more  :  "  I  troul^le  myself  not  about  the 
manner  of  future  existence.  I  content  myself  ^rith 
believing,  even  to  positive  conviction,  that  the  power 
that  gave  me  existence  is  able  to  continue  it  in  any 
form  and  manner  he  pleases,  either  with  or  A\'ithotit 
this  body  ;  and  it  appears  more  probable  to  me  that 


28 

I  shall  continue  to  exist  hereafter,  than  that  I  should 
have  had  existence,  as  I  now  have,  before  that  exis- 
tence began." 

"  The  worlds  my  country ;  to  do  good^  my  religion,''^ 
was  this  unbeliever's  motto.  In  1797,  Mr.  Paine  was 
the  cheif  promoter  of  the  society  of  "  theophilanthro- 
pists,"  whose  object  was  the  extinction  of  religious 
prejudices,  the  maintenance  of  morality,  and  the  dif- 
fusion of  faith  in  the  one  God. 

"  It  is  want  of  feeling,"  says  this  heartless  blasphe- 
mer, "  to  talk  of  priests  and  bells,  while  infants  are 
perishing  in  hospitals,  and  aged  and  infirm  poor  are 
dying  in  the  streets." 

In  his  last  will  and  testiment  the  old  man  declares : 

"  I  have  lived  an  honest  and  useful  life  to  man- 
kind ;  my  time  has  been  spent  in  doing  good ;  and  I 
die  in  perfect  composure  and  resignation  to  the  will 
of  my  creator,  God." 

To  Paine  we  owe  this  exquisite  definition  :  "  Re- 
ligion is  man  bringing  to  his  Maker  the  fruits  of  his 
heart."  It  occurs  in  "  The  Rights  of  Man."  The 
author  fancies  the  members  of  the  great  family  bring- 
ing their  gifts ;  a  poem,  an  essay,  a  piece  of  art,  an 
invention  of  genius,  a  darling  possession.  They  come, 
some  richly  laden  with  treasures,  and  some  with  a 
pretty  flower,  perhaps  with  nothing  better  than  a 
weed ;  but  all  are  equally  welcome,  the  Great  Fath- 


er  being  pleased  with  the  variety  of  the  offerings,  and 
caring  more  for  the  sincerity  than  for  the  gift. 

This  man  may  have  been  an  unbeliever,  but  surely 
he  was  something  more.  In  these  days  we  should 
rank  him  in  the  same  general  class  with  our  beloved 
and  honored  Theodore  Parker.  He  was  one  of  th& 
precursors  of  that  greatest  of  unbelievers  whose  ma- 
jestic faith  in  the  Soul  shook  the  churches  and  made 
dogmatism  faint. 

In  speaking  of  the  faith  of  the  infidels,  I  do  not 
shrink  from  using  that  word  in  its  high  moral  sense. 
Character  is  the  test  of  conviction.  Unbelievers,  as 
well  as  believers,  must  be  judged  by  their  conduct  as^ 
men.  Saints  are  rare  in  any  church.  "  He  prayeth 
best  who  loveth  best."  In  the  same  spirit  it  may  be 
said,  he  believeth  best  who  liveth  best.  I  do  not 
shrink  from  submitting  the  infidels  to  this  austere 
standard.  They  were  not  saints,  but  men  like  the 
rest  of  us,  partaking  the  infirmities  of  our  common 
humanity,  sharing  the  faults,  sometimes  the  vices  of 
their  time.  Exposed  as  they  were,  one  and  all,  to  ex- 
traordinary exasperations,  crosses,  and  trials,  it  would 
not  have  been  surprising  if  they  had  betrayed  mor( 
than  the  ordinary  amount  of  human  infirmity.  The 
r6le  of  innovator  in  religion  is  trying  enough  to  the 
temper.  And  when  the  innovator  in  religion  is  an 
innovator  in  politics  and  ethics,  the  temptation  to  be 


80 

unfaithful  to  goodness  is  very  strong.  Yet,  in  point 
of  character,  these  men  will  bear  comparison  with  the 
so-called  "  believers  "  of  their  age.  All  of  them  had 
a  certain  nobility  of  soul.  Some  of  them  were 
heroes. 

Lord  Barrington  speaks  of  the  "virtuous  and  seri- 
ous deists  "  of  his  time.  Taylor  calls  Herbert  of 
Cherbury  "  a  man  of  religious  mind."  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  describes  Shaftesbury  as  "  a  man  of  many 
excellent  qualities ;  temperate,  chaste,  honest,  and  a 
lover  of  his  country.  In  public  affairs  he  co-oper- 
ated earnestly  with  the  friends  of  freedom ;  but  he 
had  the  courage  to  oppose  them  when  they  would  de- 
prive those  accused  of  treason  (the  Jacobins,  namely) 
of  the  privilege  of  defence  by  counsel.  Like  John 
Adams,  he  was  determined  that  even  the  enemies  of 
liberty  should  be  protected  by  law. 

Bolingbroke  was  a  victim  to  the  natural  reaction 
of  a  keen  temperament  against  a  severe  puritanical 
training.  His  libertinism  was  not  so  much  the  result 
of  his  infidelity  as  of  his  mother's  injudicious  nurture. 
The  youth  rebelled  before  the  man  doubted. 

Collins  is  admitted  to  have  been  a  man  of  great 
private  and  social  worth.  He  must  indeed  have  had 
noble  qualities  to  secure  the  esteem  of  one  s«  clear- 
sighted and  upright  as  Locke. 

Of  Helvetius,  the  French  materialist,  Louis  Blanc 


31 

bids  us  remember  "  that  he  had  a  generous  soul,  and 
virtues  which  refuted  his  doctrine."  A  rich  man, 
living  on  his  estates,  he  labored  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  peasantry,  a  virtue,  the  rarity  of  which 
even  among  believers,  should  distinguish  its  pos- 
sessor in  better  times  than  those  in  which  Helvetius 
lived. 

There  are  few  to  speak  a  word  in  praise  of  Dide- 
rot, whom  unhappily,  it  is  but  too  easy  to  cover  with 
reproaches.  There  were  things  in  his  life  that  did 
no  credit  to  him  or  to  humanity.  Judge  them  and 
condemn  them  as  they  deserve.  I  enter  here  no 
apology  or  extenuation.  But  Denis  Diderot  had  a 
heart  that  could  be  touched  by  mortal  infirmities.  It 
is  recorded  of  him  that,  returning  one  evening  to  his 
hotel,  tired,  discouraged,  and  half-famished,  and  re- 
ceiving from  his  compassionate  landlady  a  bit  of  bread 
dipped  in  wine,  he  vowed  that  if  ever  he  had  anything 
to  give,  he  would  refuse  no  one  in  want,  nor  would 
ever  condemn  a  fellow-creature  to  a  single  day  of  such 
misery  as  he  had  endured  for  weeks.  "  And  never," 
adds  his  daughter,  "  was  oath  more  frequently  or 
more  piously  kept."  His  study  was  a  sort  of  sonsult- 
ing  office,  where  every  one  was  welcome  to  good  ad- 
vice or  more  substantial  aid.  To  the  priest  who 
urged  upon  him  that,  by  slightly  modifying  his  re- 
ligious opinions,  his  other  writings  would  hav,e  more 


32 

influence  on  society,  and  bring  him  remuneration, 
this  Atheist  replied :  "  That  is  quite  possible;  but 
Monsieur  Abbe,  you  must  admit  that  it  would  be  at 
the  cost  of  an  impudent  falsehood."  For  a  few  such 
atheists  as  that  the  Christian  world  would  be  none 
the  worse. 

Clergyman  are  not  in  the  habit  of  dwelling  on  the 
great  qualities  of  Voltaire.  They  have  counted  his 
little  ones,  multiplied  them  by  ten,  and  then  perfum- 
ed them  with  assafcetida.  The  great  ones  were  not 
for  their  turn.  But  truth  will  have  its  day,  and  that 
day  will  come  soon.  Fair-minded  historians,  like 
Schlosser,  Campbell,  Brougham,  Lerminier,  Buckle, 
have  been  removing  the  odium  which  Christian  ran- 
cor and  pious  mendacity  industriously,  for  half  a  cen- 
tury, heaped  on  the  brave  reformer's  grave  :  and  when 
his  true  life  shall  be  written  his  fine  trails  of  generosity 
courage,  justice,  kindness,  devotion  to  humanity 
will  shine  like  stars  in  the  firmament. 

"  The  principal  traits  in  the  character  of  Voltaire," 
says  Jules  Barni,  "  were  benevolence,  tenderness  to 
the  weak,  hatred  of  wrong  and  oppression."  And  Gab- 
erel,  no  impartial  judge,  is  obliged  to  confess  that 
he  made  a  noble  use  of  his  fortune,  and  his  benefac- 
tions with  words  and  manners  of  the  most  exquisite 
delicacy. 

Volt9.ire's  grand  acts  of  heroism  are  known  to  all 


S3 

who  have  read  anything  about  him.  On  his  ceno- 
taph, in  the  vaults  of  the  Pantheon,  is  this  inscrip- 
tion, significantly  hidden  by  a  screen :  "  II  defendit 
Galas,  Sirven,  De  la  Barre,  et  Mountbailly."  Those 
names  recall  noble  services  to  mankind.  Jean  Galas 
was  an  old  man,  a  Protestant,  whose  son.  Marc  An- 
tome,  a  morbid,  passionate,  vehement  youth,  inclined 
to  Romanism,  committed  suicide  in  a  fit  of  depression. 
The  Protestant  father  was  charged  with  the  murder, 
tortured,  condemned,  and  executed.  The  family  were 
exiled  or  incarcerated.  Voltaire,  hearing  of  the 
hideous  wrong,  sprang  forward  to  redress  it.  For 
three  years  he  toiled  ceaselessly — writing,  pleading, 
interceding  with  the  powerful,  stimulating  the  zeal  of 
advocates,  exciting  the  pity  of  generous  hearts,  and 
in  all  that  time  he  reproached  himself  for  every  smile 
as  if  it  were  a  guilt.  He  procured  a  reversal  of  judg- 
ment. On  his  return  to  Paris,  relates  Condorcet, 
when  one  day  the  crowd  was  surrounding  him  on  the 
Pont  Royal,  a  stranger  asked  a  women  of  the  labor 
ing  class,  who  the  man  was  that  drew  such  a  multi- 
tude after  him :  "Do  you  not  know,"  she  replied,  "  the 
saviour  of  Galas  ?  "  The  incident  reached  the  ears- 
of  Voltaire,  and  touched  him  more  than  any  other 
token  of  the  applause  that  was  lavished  on  him.  Sir- 
ven was  also  a  Protestant,  whose  daughter,  abducted 
by  priests  for  the  purpose  of  making  her  a  nun,  escap- 


ed  from  them,  and  drowned  herself  to  avoid  falling 
again  into  their  hands.  The  priests  tried  to  shield 
themselves  by  laying  her  death  at  her  father's  door. 
The  father  barely  saved  himself  by  fleeing  with  all 
his  family  into  Switzerland.  He  appealed  to  Vol- 
taire, and  he  did  not  appeal  in  vain.  The  warm 
heart  took  fire  again,  and  flamed  for  nine  years — not 
till  the  end  of  which  was  Sirven  triumphantly  ac- 
quitted. The  Chevalier  De  La  Barre  was  a  young 
gentleman  who  was  tortured  and  put  to  a  horrible 
death,  on  the  charge  of  having  mutilated  a  wooden  cru- 
cifix that  stood  on  one  of  the  bridges.  To  his  rescue 
Voltaire  rushed  forward.  Failing  to  save  the  young 
man,  he  toiled  for  twelve  years  to  get  his  family  rein- 
st  ted  in  their  possessions — toiled,  too,  against  the 
hope  of  success.  His  denunciations  of  the  crime 
rung  through  Europe. 

MoNTBAiLLY  was  a  poor  gardener,  who  was  bro- 
ken on  the  wheel  and  burned  alive,  on  a  false  accusa- 
tion of  parricide.  Voltaire  obtained  a  revision  of  the 
trial,  preserved  his  wife  —  whose  condition  alone 
saved  her  from  being  executed  with  her  husband — 
and  restored  the  unhappy  man's  civil  name.  Does  it 
require  a  very  long  mantle  of  charity  to  cover  the 
reputation  of  a  man  who  did  such  deeds  as  these  ? 

But  the  straws  show  the  set  of  the  wind.  The 
loan  of  seven   thousand   five  hundred   and   eighty 


35 

francs  to  a  lal)ort'r  wlio  was  about  to  be  imprisoned 
for  debt,  and  liis  re})ly  when  tcjld  that  the  man  would 
never  be  able  to  pay  it  baek :  '•  So  much  the  better ; 
one  lost'S  nothing  Avho  returns  a  father  to  his  family, 
a  citizen  to  the  state;"  his  kindness  to  the  widow, 
whose  creditors  he  bought  off;  his  goodness  to  the 
villager,  whose  debt  he  forgave  and  whose  lost  cattle 
he  rei:)laced ;  his  present  of  a  thousand  crowns  to  a 
farmer  ruined  by  an  iniquitous  law-suit ;  his  pay- 
ment of  fifteen  thousand  francs  to  save  the  estate 
of  a  poor  and  worthy  family  from  the  greedy  Jesuits, 
who  thought  they  could  buy  it  for  a  quarter  part  of 
its  value, — such  things  as  these  show  the  under-cur- 
rent of  nobility  in  this  man. 

Voltaire  must  have  had  a  great  soul,  or  he  could 
not  have  fought  a  great  fight.  Vanity,  meanness, 
frivolity,  spitefulness,  never  clothe  men  in  such 
armor  as  he  wore ;  never  meditate  such  wars  as  he 
undertook ;  never  secure  such  conquests  as  he  gained. 
His  course  finished,  he  could  say,  "I  have  fought  a 
good  fight;  I  have  kept  the  faith.*'  It  is  sweet  to 
know  that  the  strong  soldier  kept  his  tender  heart 
to  the  end.  In  his  last  hour  Voltaire  did  not  forget 
the  dear  cause  of  humanity.  In  one  of  his  intervals 
of  intelligence,  hearing  it  said  that  the  sentence  of 
of  infamy  pronounced  on  the  name  of  the  Chevalier 
De  la  Barre  had  been  reversed,  he  seized  a  pen  and 


36 

wrote  to  the  son  of  the  unfortunate  man  whom, 
twelve  years  before,  he  had  done  his  best  to  save : 
"  I  die  content.  I  see  that  the  king  loves  justice." 
These  were  the  last  words  Voltaire  wrote. 

The  new  day-spring  that  is  coming  over  the  hills 
has  reached  even  the  low  grave  of  Thomas  Paine? 
and  is  covering  it  with  flowers.  The  foul  spectres 
that  gathered  there  no  longer  appear  to  those  that 
have  eyes  to  see.  Every  true  American  should 
know  at  least  something  of  the  great  qualities  of 
Thomas  Paine.  Every  true  American  should  know 
that  it  was  he  that  struck  the  key-note  of  our  Revo- 
lution by  his  "  Common  Sense."  Every  true  Ameri- 
can should  know  that  his  "  Crisis,"  written  in  an 
hour  of  extreme  discouragement,  electrified  the  army, 
put  a  soul  into  the  country,  and  was  worth  to  the 
failing  cause  of  Independence  more  than  an  army 
with  banners.  Its  first  sentence,  "These  are  the 
times  that  try  men's  souls,"  is  still  the  patriot's  bat- 
tle-cry in  the  last  struggle.  Every  true  American 
should  know  and  should  love  to  remember,  that 
when  these  two  publications  were  having  an  enor- 
mous sale — the  demand  for  the  former  reaching  not 
less  than  one  hundred  thousand  copies,  and  both 
together  offering  to  the  author  profits  that  would 
have  made  him  rich — the  author,  a  man  poor  and 
overworked,  refused  a  cent  of  remuneration  for  his 


37 

toil,  and,  like  a  prince, — nay,  rather  like  a  true 
friend  of  man, — freely  gave  the  copy-right  to  every 
State  in  the  Union.  Every  true  American  should 
know  and  delight  to  tell  how  Thomas  Paine,  in 
his  period  of  public  favor  and  of  intimate  friend- 
ship with  the  founders  of  the  government,  declined 
to  accept  any  place  or  office  of  emolument,  saying, 
"I  must  be  in  every  thing  as  I  have  ever  been,  a 
disinterested  volunteer  ;  my  proper  sphere  of  action 
is  on  the  common  floor  of  citizenship,  and  to  honest 
men  I  give  my  hand  and  my  heart  freely."  Every 
true  American  should  know,  and  should  not  forget, 
that  when  the  State  of  Virginia  made  a  large  claim 
on  the  General  Government  for  lands,  Thomas  Paine 
opposed  the  claim  as  unreasonable  and  unjust,  though 
at  that  very  time  there  was  a  resolution  before  the 
Legislature  of  Virginia  to  appropriate  to  him  a  hand- 
some sum  of  money  for  services  rendered.  Not  for 
any  private  considerations  would  he  hold  back  his 
protest.  Every  true  American  will  be  glad  to  know 
th*at  Paine,  though  an  Englishman,  had  such  love  for 
republican  institutions  that  he  declared  he  would 
rather  see  his  horse.  Button,  eating  the  grass  of 
Bordentown  or  Morrisania,  than  see  all  the  pomp 
and  show  of  Europe. 

No  private  character  has  been  more  foully  calum- 
niated in  the  name  of  God  than   that  of  Thomas 

206560     ■ 


S8 

Paine.  What  mud-heaps  pious  Christian  hands  have 
piled  on  the  grave  of  the  "liar,"  the  "sot,"  the 
"adulterer,"  the  "common  swearer,"  the  "low 
ribald,"  the  "cowardly  assailant  of  a  faith  to  whose 
disciples  he  was  indebted  for  charity  in  his  last 
hours."  Few  persons  now  take  interest  in  the 
charges  or  their  refutation.  Paine  has  been  dead 
more  than  sixty  years;  too  long  for  men  to  care 
whether  he  was  slandered  or  not.  Some  who  hear 
me  will  think  that  I  am  wasting  these  few  words  on 
an  obsolete  issue.  But  history  deems  no  words 
wasted  in  efforts  to  rescue  from  oblivion  or  from 
infamy  the  smallest  human  name.  And  were  I 
writing  as  a  historian,  I  should  feel  justified  in  de- 
manding attention  to  a  fully  detailed  vindication  of 
this  name  so  remarkable  in  our  own  annals. 

I  am  not  writing  as  a  historian  but  as  a  Free  Re- 
ligionist. My  object  is  to  show  that  infidels  have 
their  virtues  as  well  as  their  beliefs ;  that  the  territo- 
ry occupied  by  the  unbelievers  is  not  a  barren  desert, 
but  a  fruitful  domain,  where  the  humanities  dwfeU 
and  the  angels  sing.  In  a  question  like  this,  all  are 
interested,  whether  they  care  for  the  truth  of  biog- 
raphy or  not. 

And  for  my  purpose  it  is  enough  that  the  charges 
against  Thomas  Paine's  character  have  in  every  in- 
stance rebounded  against  his  accusers.    Grant  Thor- 


39 

burn  borrowed,  and  for  base  ends  reprinted,  private 
letters  from  A\'illiam  Carver,  aiigrv  letttrs.  more  than 
insinuating-  that  Paine  was  a  drunkard  and  a  dirty 
fellow.  Carver  liimseif  denounced  the  proeeeding-. 
regretted  the  intemperate  lang-uage  he  had  used, 
disavowed  the  imputations,  and  asked  the  abused 
Paine's  forgiveness. 

James  Cheetham,  who,  in  addition  to  other  slan- 
ders, accused  Paine  of  improper  intimacy  with  the 
wife  of  a  friend  and  benefactor;  was  prosecuted  and 
convicted  by  a  jury  in  Pliiladeljjha,  where  Paine 
was  extremely  unpopular,  for  having  published  a 
false  and  malicious  libel. 

Mary  Hinsdale,  the  silly  servant  girl,  who  had 
gossipped  stupidly  to  the  effect  that  Paine,  in  his 
last  illness,  Avas  in  a  pitiable  condition  for  want  of 
the  bare  necessaries  of  life ;  that  the  neighbors,  out 
of  charity,  supplied  him  with  sustenance  ;  that  he  re- 
canted his  opinions  and  became  converted  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  much  more  of  the  like — Mary  Hinsdale? 
whose  unreliable  word  alone  supports  the  burden  of 
calumny  in  which  bigots  most  delight,  had  nothing 
to  say  when  cross-questioned,  but  shuffled,  evaded, 
equivocated,  didn't  understand,  didn't  remember  and 
finally  declared  she  had  no  recollection  of  any  per- 
son or  thing  she  saw  in  Thomas  Paine's  house. 

The  truth  is,  that  Paine,  though  not  rich,  was  in 


40 

comfortable  circumstances.  He  had  considerable 
property,  which  is  specified  in  his  will.  His  sick  bed 
was  surrounded  by  friends  who  ministered  to  his 
wants,  witnessed  the  firmness  and  calmness  of  his 
last  hours,  and  attested  the  sincerity  and  sufficiency 
of  his  convictions.  Not  even  the  impertinent  intru- 
siveness  of  the  clergy  disturbed  the  entire  serenity 
of  his  death. 

It  is  certain  that  Paine  was  not  a  fine  gentleman. 
It  is  certain  that  he  was  not  a  man  of  delicate  spirit- 
ual refinement.  It  is  certain  that  he  was  no  saint ; 
but  it  is  equally  certain  that  he  was  not  a  sinner 
above  all  the  rest  who  dwelt  in  Jerusalem.  He 
drank  occasionally  more  brandy  than  was  wise,  more 
than  would  now  be  deemed  digni^ed ;  but  reputable 
Christians  of  his  time  kept  him  countenance  in  this. 
He  was  no  dandy ;  he  went  to  dinner  in  a  dressing 
gown ;  but  when  was  foppery  reckoned  an  apostolic 
grace  ?  He  used  snuff;  but  is  snuff-taking  so  much 
more  heinous  than  smoking,  which  is  said  to  be  a  cler- 
cal  weakness,  that  it  makes  all  the  difference  between 
the  believer  and  the  infidel  ?  He  lost  his  temper  some- 
times ;  and  what  amount  of  orthodoxy  will  make  it 
sure  that  a  good  man  in  certain  cases  will  not? 
Stones  like  these  must  not  be  flying  about  promiscu- 
ously. Had  Paine  been  less  of  a  hero  he  would  have 
enjoyed  a  better  reputation  with  the  leaders  of  fash- 


41 

ion.  Had  he  been  more  of  an  apostate,  his  name 
might  have  been  a  sweet  savor  in  the  nostrils  of  pie- 
ty. Had  he  loved  liberty  less  intensely,  he  would 
not  have  been  rejected  by  the  politicians.  Had  he 
been  a  colder  friend  of  humanity,  he  would  not  have 
been  anathematized  by  the  priests.  It  was  very  mag- 
nificent when,  in  the  French  Assembly,  met  to  order 
the  execution  of  Louis  XVI.,  Thomas  Paine  rose  and 
protested  in  the  name  of  liberty  against  the  deed. 
"Destroy  the  king,"  he  cried,  "but  save  the  man. 
Strike  the  crown,  but  spare  the  heart !"  The  mem- 
bers in  a  rage  would  not  believe  their  ears.  "  These 
are  not  the  words  of  Thomas  Paine,"  resounded  from 
every  side  of  the  chamber.  "  They  are  my  words," 
said  the  undaunted  man.  It  was  very  magnificent, 
but  it  cost  the  hero  his  reputation,  and  came  near 
costing  him  his  life.  He  was  twice  sentenced.  His 
death  warrant  was  signed,  and,  but  for  what  in  the 
case  of  a  Christian  believer  would  have  been  consid- 
ered a  special  Providence,  he  would  have  gone  to 
the  scaffold. 

Character  and  credence  follow  different  laws,  and  it 
is  never  safe  to  make  one  answerable  for  the  other. 
But  if  we  are  going  to  hold  opinions  responsible  for 
conduct,  I  would  take  my  chance  with  the  infidels 
quite  as  soon  as  with  the  believers.     The  faults  of 

the  infidel  may  be  heat,  rashness,  audacity,  a  passion- 

2* 


42 

ate  temper,   a  biting  tot^ngue.     They  are  not  cun- 
ning, calculation,  cant,  or  cruelty. 

Ah !  what  do  we  not  owe  to  the  few  who  have  had 
the  courage  to  disbelieve !  What  have  not  such 
men  given  to  us !  And  how  tenderly  we  should  hold 
them  in  mind  !  The  men  who  bore  hard  names  through 
life,  and  after  death  had  harder  names  piled  like 
stones  over  their  memories!  The  men  who  wore 
themselves  down  with  thought  !  The  men  who 
lived  solitary  and  misunderstood,  who  were  driven 
by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness,  who  were  called 
infidels  because  they  believed  more  then  their  neigh- 
bors, and  heretics  because  they  chose  the  painful 
pursuit  of  truth  in  preference  to  the  idle  luxury  of 
traditional  opinion,  and  Atheists  because  they  rested 
on  a  God  so  large  that  the  vulgar  could  not  see  his 
outline,  and  image  breakers  because  they  adored 
the  unseen  Spirit,  and  deniers  of  the  Christ  because 
they  affirmed  the  Eternal  World ! 

What  do  we  not  owe  them,  who  went  about  shak- 
ing their  heads  and  murmuring  NO  with  their  lips, 
their  hearts  all  the  while  saying  YES  to  the  immor- 
tals !  They,  after  all,  are  the  builders  of  our  most 
splendid  beliefe.  Almost  all  our  rational  faiths  we 
"vxiust  thank  them  for,  liberators  that  they  were !  It 
is  they  who  have  quenched  the  revengeful  fires  of 
hell,  and  burned  up  the  selfish  chaff  of  heaven.     It 


43 

is  they  who  have  taken  the  discord  out  of  the  heart 
of  God,  and  made  his  countenance  shine  upon  his 
creatures.  It  is  they  who  have  hunted  the  old  devil 
from  the  highways  and  byways  of  creation.  To 
them  we  owe  deliverance  from  witchcraft,  priestcraft, 
and  the  manifold  shapes  of  superstition.  They 
have  taught  us  to  read  the  Jewish  bible  with 
open  eyes,  and  other  bibles  beside:?.  They  have  in- 
terpreted the  sweet  humanity  of  Jesus.  Who  but 
they  have  practically  taught  us  the  preciout^ness 
of  the  rational  life,  have  rescued  us  from  the  tyr- 
anny of  establishments  and  creeds,  and  purchased 
with  their  blood  the  soul  freedom  which  is  our  native 
birth-right  ? 

We  will  cry  with  Erasmus,  "  Holy  Socrates,  pray 
for  us."  We  will  say  with  Schleiermacher,  "  Join 
me  in  offering  a  lock  of  hair  to  the  shades  of  the  re- 
jected saint  Spinoza.  Full  of  religion,  was  he,  and 
full  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  if  there  w^ere  a  louder 
voice  calling  on  us  to  lay  tears,  vows,  and  purposes 
on  the  graves  of  all  faithful  infidels  and  believiug 
unbelievers,  we  should  say,  amen — and  amen  ! 


THE  THEIST'S  FAITH. 

In  a  recent  sermon  on  "  The  Living  God "  I 
spoke  of  atheism  as  being  in  its  deep  sense,  absence 
of  faith  in  a  living  intelligence  will  or  sanctity  that 
transcended  the  human.  This  is  not  speculative 
atheism.  That  is  the  failure  of  thought  to  find  an  in- 
finite intelligence  or  will  in  the  world  of  ideas.  Spec- 
ulative atheism  need  not  trouble  us  much ;  for  few 
persons  entertain  it  with  any  consistency,  and  of  those 
who  do,  many,  if  not  most,  are  of  such  force  of  intellect 
and  character  that  their  lives  obey  laws  deeper  than 
their  intellects  are  able  to  grasp.  It  is  the  greatness 
of  their  mental  constitution  that  dwarfs  the'scope  of 
their  speculation.  The  best  of  these  men  live  strong- 
ly on  practical  planes ;  their  thoughts  follow  the  lines 
of  intellect  '  aw ;  their  energies  take  hold  of  vital 
interests  to  sach  a  degree  that  their  views  make 
little  or  no  impression  on  the  sweep  of  their  spirits. 


There  is  another  atheism :  the  atheism  of  feelino-, 
the  atheism  of  the  troubled  or  tormented  heart,  the 
atheism  born  of  sorrow  at  the  misery,  or  indignation 
at  the  wrong  of  society,  that  is  more  pathetic  and 
more  crushing.  It  is  doubtful  if  atheism  of  thought 
is  ou  the  increase ;  but  atheism  of  feeling  probably 
is.  For  with  every  3'ear  knowledge  of  society,  con- 
tinually extending,  makes  us  better  acquainted  with 
human  guilt  and  sadness-;  and  with  every  year 
human  sensibility  to  suffering  and  evil  becomes  more 
acute.  A  gloomy  presentiment  seizes  the  mind  that 
God  is  not  in  His  heaven,  that  all  is  not  right  with 
the  world;  and  this  misgiving  eats  into  the  sub- 
stance of  hope  and  corrodes  the  springs  of  will. 
To  feel  that  there  is  no  God  is  more  deplorable  than 
to  think  there  is  none;  for  one  who  thinks  th<  re  is 
none  may,  when  he  is  not  busy  with  thinking,  but 
is  absorbed  in  action,  live  healthily  in  his  affections 
and  determinations.  But  one  who  feels  there  is 
none  carries  his  skepticisms  about  like  a  poison  in 
the  veins  which  unmans  him  for  strenuous  effort. 

A  great  writer,  not  long  ago  deceased,  a  clear 
and  unremitting  thinker,  but  an  earnest  and  power- 
ful person  too,  has  put  these  misgivings  of  the  moral 
nature  in  a  form  that  makes  us  shudder  as  at  a  grim 
demonstration.  Stated  in  a  word,  his  argument  is 
that    God  must  be  either  wanting  in  power  or  in 


goodness — and  wanting  either,  he  fails  to  be  God. 
"  How,"  he  asks,  "  stands  the  fact  ?  That  next  to 
the  greatness  of  the  cosmic  forces,  the  quality  which 
most  forcibly  strikes  every  one  who  does  not  avert 
his  eyes  from  it,  is  their  perfect  and  absolute  reckless- 
ness. They  go  straight  to  their  end,  without  regard- 
ing what  or  whom  they  crush  on  the  road."  "  In 
sober  truth,  nearly  all  the  things  which  men  are 
imprisoned  or  hanged  for  doing  to  one  another,  are 
Nature's  every-day  performances.  Killing,  the  most 
criminal  act  recognized  by  human  laws,  Nature  does 
once  to  every  being  that  lives ;  and  in  a  large  pro- 
portion of  cases,  after  protracted  tortures  such  as 
only  the  greatest  monsters  whom  we  read  of  ever 
purposely  inflicted  on  their  living  fellow  creatures. 
Nature  impales  men,  breaks  them  as  if  on  the  wheel, 
casts  them  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts,  burns 
them  to  death,  crushes  them  with  stones,  like  the 
first  Christian  martyr,  starves  them  with  hunger, 
freezes  them  with  cold,  poisons  them  by  the  quick 
or  slow  venom  of  her  exhalations,  and  has  hundreds 
of  other  hideous  deaths  in  reserve,  such  as  the  in- 
genious cruelty  of  a  Nabis  or  a  Domitian  never 
surpassed.  All  this  Nature  does  with  the  most 
supercilious  disregard  both  of  mercy  and  of  justice, 
emptying  her  shafts  upon  the  best  and  noblest  indif- 
ferently with  the  meanest  and  worst."     After  this 


fearful  arraignment  of  Nature,  made  in  much  detail 
and  with  deadly  severity  of  logic,  the  writer  asks : 
Why  should  all  this  be  permitted  ?  Is  God  willing 
to  prevent  it,  but  unable  ?  Then  he  is  not  God,  for 
he  is  less  than  omnipotent.  Is  he  able,  but  unwil- 
ling ?  Then  he  is  not  God,  for  he  is  less  than  all 
beneficent.  Choose  your  alternative.  Almighty 
demon,  or  impuissant  angel,  which  will  you  have  ? 
Select  whichever  you  will ;  but  whichever  being  you 
select  he  will  not  correspond  to  any  sufficient  con- 
ception of  deity.  The  being  you  call  God  is  either 
weak  or  wicked ;  in  neither  case  is  he  adorable. 
Before  a  challenge  like  this  the  heart  trembles.  The 
alleged  facts  cannot  be  disputed.  The  earth  is 
hideous  with  all  this  misery:  the  human  race  is 
afflicted  with  all  these  woes.  Must  the  soul  then  cease 
to  worship,  must  the  heart  cease  to  trust  and  love? 

Without  attempting  a  labored  argument  which, 
were  I  competent  to  make  it  against  a  reasoner  like 
Stuart  Mill,  would  occupy  many  discourses,  let  me 
try  to  indicate  the  theist's  answer  to  the  charge. 

I.  The  word  "  omnipotence  "  needs  examination, 
that  the  thought  it  stands  for  may  be  well  defined. 
Mr.  Mill,  speaking  in  another  work  of  the  word  "  In- 
finite," says :  "  The  conception  of  Infinite  as  that 
which  is  greater  than  any  given  quantity,  is  a  con- 
ception we  all  possess,  sufficient  for  all  human  pur- 


poses,  and  as  genuine  and  good  a  positive  concep- 
tion as  one  need  wish  to  have.  It  is  not  adequate ; 
our  conception  of  a  reality  never  is.  But  it  is  posi- 
tive ;  and  the  assertion  that  there  is  nothing  positive 
in  the  idea  of  infinity  can  only  be  maintained  by 
leaving  out  and  ignoring  the  very  element  which 
constitutes  the  idea."  "  Put  Absolute  instead  of  In- 
finite, and  we  come  to  the  same  result.  If  I  talk  of 
a  being  who  is  absolute  in  wisdom  and  goodness, 
that  is,  who  knows  everything,  and  at  all  times  in- 
tends what  is  best  for  every  sentient  creature,  I  un- 
derstand perfectly  what  I  mean  ;  and  however  much 
the  fact  may  transcend  my  conception,  the  short- - 
coming  can  only  consist  in  my  being  ignorant  of  the 
details  of  which  the  reality  is  composed."  Now 
why  not  apply  the  same  reasoning  to  the  conception 
of  Omnipotence  ?  An  omnipotent  being  is  one  who 
can  do  everything ;  but  what  doing  everything  may 
imply,  will  depend  on  our  idea  of  what  "  everything  " 
may  be.  Now  of  Avhat  "  everything  "  may  be,  we 
have  but  the  most  inadequate  conception.  Can  an 
omnipotent  being  make  a  circle  to  be  at  the  same 
time  a  circle  and  a  square  ?  Can  he  make  a  cube 
to  be  at  the  same  time  a  cube  and  a  plane?  Can 
he  make  a  black  object  to  be  at  the  same  time  black 
and  white  ?  A  line  to  be  at  the  same  instant  straight 
and  crooked  ?  A  fact  to  be  at  the  same  moment  a  fact 


and  a  fiction?  An  omnipotent  being  is  powerful 
within  the  laws  of  his  own  intelligence.  The  abso- 
lute despot  keeps  somewhere  within  the  bounds  of 
reason  ;  he  does  not  do  literally  everything  he  likes. 
Where  there  is  intelligence,  there  are  lines  of  deter- 
mination, and  power  must  respect  these  lines.  An 
intelligent  being  must  have  aims  and  ends  of  his 
own,  and  his  power  must  be  exerted  to  reach  these 
aims,  and  fulfil  these  ends.  He  cannot  do  things 
(^inconsistent  with  his  own  resolutions.  He  cannot 
swerve  from  his  own  prescribed  path.  He  cannot 
falter  in  his  own  purposes.  Whatever  he  may 
seek,  whether  it  be  his  own  glory,  as  the  Calvinist 
supposes,  or  the  perfection  of  humanity,  as  the 
Theist  believes,  or  the  final  happiness  of  all  creatures 
as  the  Universalist  hopes,  his  omnipotence  will  work 
towards  that  result.  He  cannot  waver  or  turn 
aside  from  it.  He  is  fated  by  his  own  nature  ;  pre- 
destinated, as  it  were,  by  the  qualities  which  make 
him  what  he  is.  There  have  been  people  who 
believed  that  God  predestinated  the  larger  part  of 
mankind  to  everlasting  misery.  They  held  that  he 
was  constrained  to  do  it  by  the  necessity  imposed 
by  his  own  eternal  decrees.  They  were  good  men 
who  believed  this ;  tender  hearted,  devout,  adoring 
men,  who  ascribed  all  manner  of  perfection  to  God ; 
it  never  occurred  to  them  to   call  in  question  the 


9 

Divine  Omnipotence  to  do  whatever  It  would. 
They  were  persuaded  that  Omnipotence  itself  was 
powerless  to  do  what  he  would  not.  In  other  words, 
will  being  subservient  to  intelligence  and  character 
is  their  vassal,  not  their  lord. 

JX  Then  there  can  be  no  harm  in  repeating  the 
old  truism  that  the  thoughts  of  a  being  much  less 
than  absolute,  cannot  be  as  our  thoughts  ;    nor  can 
his  ways  be  as  our  ways.      The  sense   of   private 
justice  and   injustice,  of   actual   right   and   wrong, 
even   in    the  most  enlightened  minds  and  the  no- 
blest breasts  cannot   measure   the   sense  of  justice 
and    injustice,    cannot    criticise    the    actual     ver- 
dict   of    an    archangel,    or    of    any    being    of    a 
superior   order.     The  value  of  a  judgment  depends 
on  completeness  of  information ;     and   in  the  case 
supposed,  the  information  is  desperately  incomplete. 
The  child's  foolish  complaint  of  the  unkindness  of  ■ 
its  parent  whose  kindness  is  of  a  quality  the  child 
has  not  the  faintest  conception  of;  the  pupil's  petu- 
lant murmurings  at  the  teacher,  whose  mind  enter- 
tains a  comprehensive  scheme  of  study,  looking  to 
the  future  dignity  of  his  disciple,  present  no  parallel 
to  the  preposterous  waywardness  of  a  human  creature 
who  finds  fault  with  the  arrangements  of  a  being 
whose   attributes  in  the  nature  of  things,  must  be 
.utterly    beyond    the    reach    of    his    apprehension. 


10 

Language  is  not  strong  enough  to  express  the  ab- 
surdity of  such  attempts  at  judgment,  supposing  a 
God  to  exist.  "  As  the  heavens  are  high  above  the 
earth,  so  are  His  thoughts  higher  than  our  thoughts, 
and  His  ways  than  our  ways." 

Of  course  the  human  and  the  divine  sense  of 
justice  must  run  parallel  as  far  as  they  go  together.  To 
grant  that  there  is  anything  in  the  world,  in  the 
whole  world,  in  the  whole  conceivable  world,  that 
would  seem  unjust  to  one  who  knew  all  the  circum- 
stances,—  to  grant  that  there  is  anything  that  to  a 
perfectly  pure  heart  would  seem  wholly  and  absolute- 
ly wrong,  would  be  fatal  to  any  plea  in  favor  of  a 
righteous  deity.  But  can  any  such  thing  be  shown  ? 
Is  there  any  uncaused,  unrecompensed,  unbalanced, 
unproductive  evil  ?  Is  there  any  instance  of  divine 
guilt  ? 

Miss  Cobbe,  in  an  argument  for  the  necessity  of 
another  life  to  mend  the  defects  of  this,  mentions 
the  fate  of  Jesus  as  being  one  of  those  incidents,  that 
are  irreconcilable  with  the  idea  of  a  righteous 
governance  of  the  world,  and  require  another  life  for 
justification.  But  the  fate  of  Jesus  was  clearly 
brought  on  by  his  own  deliberate  course  of  action  ; 
it  was  what  he  might  and  probably  did  anticipate  ; 
it  was  recompensed  during  his  short  lifetime,  by 
satisfactions  and  joys  that  were  dearer  to  him  than 


11 

aught  beside  in  the  world ;  and  it  earned  for  him  a 
crown  of  honor  from  his  fellow-men  such  as  never 
fell  before  or  since  to  the  lot  of  a  human  being.  So 
far  is  this  example  from  reflecting  discredit  on  the 
divine  righteousness,  that  it  would  be  hard  to  find 
one  that  more  completely  illustrated  the  operation 
of  retributive  and  recompensing  law. 

Miss  Cobbe  further  instances  the  cruel  retributions 
visited  on  women  for  offences  against  purity  which 
man  shares  with  her,  the  greater  guilt  of  which,  per- 
haps, belongs  to  man,  yet  which  he  perpetrates  with 
comparative  impunity,  while  she  suffers  all  that  a  hu- 
man being  can.  To  the  untrained  eye  this  does  look 
like  a  perverse  departure  from  the  plain  rule  of 
equity ;  a  departure  unjustified  and,  as  far  as  appears, 
unjustifiable  by  any  considerations  that  lie  on  the 
surface  of  thought.  But  when  regard  is  had  to  the 
relative  gravity  of  consequences  in  the  two  cases, 
to  the  sum  of  interests  that  society  has  at  stake,  to 
the  necessity  of  guarding  the  helplessness  and  pre- 
serving the  continuity  of  human  life,  enough  is 
evident  to  vindicate  from  essential  injustice  the  order 
of  human  progress. 

The  theist  argues  that  evil  is  incidental ;  that  in 
particular  cases  it  is  even  tributary  to  general  good ;     j 
that  individual  suffering  is  made  necessary  for  the  -^ 
welfare  of  the  whole.      To  this  Mill  returns  a  scorn- 


12 

ful  reply.  "  Optimists,"  he  says,  "  in  their  attempts 
to  prove  that  whatever  is,  is  right,  are  obliged  to 
maintain,  not  that  Nature  ever  turns  aside  from  her 
path  to  avoid  trampling  us  into  destruction,  but  that  it 
would  be  very  unreasonable  in  us  to  expect  that  it 
should.  Pope's  "  Shall  gravitation  cease  when  you 
go  by?"  may  be  a  just  rebuke  to  any  one  who  should 
be  so  silly  as  to  expect  common  morality  from 
Nature.  But  if  the  question  were  between  two  men, 
instead  of  between  a  man  and  a  natural  phenome- 
non, that  triumphant  apostrophe  would  be  thought 
a  rare  piece  of  impudence.  A  man  who  should  per- 
sist in  hurling  stones  or  firing  cannon  when  another 
man  "goes  by,"  and  liaving  killed  him,  should  urge 
a  similar  plea  in  exculpation,  would,  very  deservedly, 
be  found  guilty  of  murder.  Most  assuredly,  because 
it  could  not  by  any  argument  or  representation  be 
made  to  appear  that  any  good  end  was  served  or 
contemplated  by  the  action.  It  could  not  be  im- 
puted to  aught  but  insanity  or  a  spirit  of  reckless 
mischief.  No  beneficence  matches  that  of  the  law  of 
gravitation,  which  we  know  to  be  an  important  fea- 
ture in  the  orderly  administration  of  the  universe. 
For  a  man  to  imitate  the  proceedings  of  Nature 
without  thought  of  their  intention,  or  knowledge  of 
their  drift,  or  respect  for  their  possible  intention, 
would  be  simply  madness.     Only  a  Deity  can  copy 


13 

a  Deity.  Does  the  wasteful,  ruinous,  self-destroying, 
and  brutalizing  drunkard  imitate  the  example  of  the 
self-controlled,  prudent,  self-respecting  man,  who,  for 
ends  of  health,  cheerfulness,  intellectual  vigor,  sips 
daily  his  glass  of  light  wine?  They  both  do  the 
same  thing,  that  is,  both  lift  a  cup  to  their  lips  ;  but 
the  intention,  the  purpose,  the  character  of  the 
action,  how  different ! 

To  copy  an  example  without  considering  how  '^ 
far  it  ought  or  ought  not  to  be  copied,  is  foolish  and  J , 
wrong.  Verj'  true  :  "  The  order  of  Nature,  in  so  far 
as  unmodified  by  man,  is  such  as  no  being,  whose 
attributes  are  justice  and  benevolence,  would  have 
made  with  the  intention  that  his  rational  creatures 
should  follow  it  as  an  example."  But  if  he  never 
designed  that  his  rational  creatures  should  follow  it 
as  an  example;  if  on  the  contrary  he  made  his 
rational  creatures  to  be  a  part  of  his  Universe,  and 
so  endowed  them  that  they  might  conspire  and  co- 
operate with  him  to  make  the  creation  complete  in 
excellence ;  nay,  more,  if  he  intended  his  rational 
creatures  to  be  in  a  manner  his  own  repi^esentative 
agents,  his  own  incarnations,  so  to  speak,  in  order 
that  through  them,  his  attributes  of  wisdom  and 
goodness  might  be  exhibited  and  acted  out,  then  the 
burden  of  his  opprobrium  may  be  lightened.  I'hese 
.are  obvious  thoughts,  but  are  they  not  just  ones? 


14 

They  do  not  clear  up  the  intricacies  of  sjieculation, 
but  do  they  not  remove  obstacles  from  the  main 
lines  ?  They  are  worthless,  perhaps,  as  proof  that  God 
exists,  but  presuming  that  he  does  exist,  do  they 
not  relieve  the  presumption  of  heavy  incumbrances  ? 
III.  The  world  of  nature  and  of  providence  is  not 
wholly  or  prevailingly  dark.  There  is  horror  but 
there  is  more  of  glory.  There  is  suffering,  but  there 
is  more  of  satisfaction.  There  is  sorrow,  but  there  is 
more  of  joy.  By  looking  at  the  evil  side  of  things 
one  easily  persuades  himself  that  there  is  nothing  but 
evil.  By  looking  at  the  good  side  of  things  one  as 
easily  persuades  himself  that  there  is  nothing  but 
good.  By  looking  calmly  at  things  one  may  persuade 
himself  that  good  and  evil  are  mixed,  but  that  good 
has  the  upper  hand  of  evil.  The  healthiest  nature  is 
the  fairest  judge  ;  and  the  healthiest  nature  finds  more 
health  than  sickness  in  the  world.  The  deepest  intel- 
ligence discovers  the  most  intelligence;  the  sweetest 
soul  discerns  the  most  sanctity.  There  is  an  im- 
mense difference  between  the  reports  of  the  single 
and  of  the  evil  eye.  The  German  philosopher  who 
has  earned  his  fame  by  the  power  with  which  he 
brought  into  relief  the  ugly  aspects  of  what  he  chose 
to  call  the  "  worst  possible  world,"  w^s  a  morbid 
and  uncomfortable  man,  disorder(  d  in  system,  a  prey 
to  imaginary  fears,  as  little  of  a  hero  as  one  is  likely 


15 

to  find.  The  slave  Epictetus,  a  pagan,  living  in  the 
midst  of  the  horrors  and  turpitudes  of  imperial  Rome, 
breaks  out  thus  :  "  I  would  be  found  at  my  last  day 
pondering  h'ow  I  might  be  able  to  say  to  God : — 
'  Have  I  transgressed  Thy  commands  ?  Have  I 
perverted  the  powers,  senses,  instincts,  which  Thou 
hast  given  me  ?  Have  I  ever  accused  Thee  or  cen- 
sured Thy  dispensations?  I  have,  like  others,  been 
sick,  and  patiently,  for  it  was  Thy  pleasure ;  I  have 
been  poor,  and  contentedly,  for  it  was  Thy  will. 
Thou  didst  decree  that  I  should  occupy  a  humble 
station,  and  power  I  have  not  desired.  Hast  Thou 
ever  seen  me  sad  for  these  causes?  Have  I  not 
always  approached  Thee  with  a  cheerful  counte- 
nance, prepared  to  execute  Thy  commands  and  ac- 
cept the  intimations  of  Thy  will  ?  Must  I  now 
leave  the  world  ?  I  go.  That  Thou  hast  thought 
me  worthy  of  a  place  in  it  I  thank  Thee ;  that 
Thou  hast  allowed  me  to  behold  Thy  Tvorks  and 
join  Thee  in  contemplating  Thy  administrator.' 
While  I  am  thinking,  writing,  reading  such  things 
as  these,  let  death  overtake  me." 

Opening  the  other  day  the  biography  of  Henry 
Thoreau  I  came  upon  this  passage  in  a  letter: 
"  Again  and  again  I  congratulate  myself  on  my  so 
called  poverty.  When  I  can  sit  in  a  cold  chamber, 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  warmed  by  my  own  thoughts. 


16 

the  world  is  not  so  much  with  me.  When  I  have 
only  a  rustling  oak  leaf,  or  the  faint  metallic  cheep 
of  a  tree  sparrou  for  variety  in  my  winter's  walk, 
my  life  becomes  continent  and  sweet  as  the  kernel 
of  a  nut."  -And  again  :  "  It  is  a  significant  fact 
that  though  no  man  is  quite  well  or  healthy,  yet 
every  one  believes,  practically,  that  health  is  the 
rule,  and  disease  the  exception,  and  each  invalid  is 
wont  to  think  himself  in  a  minority,  and  to  postpone 
somewhat  of  endeavor  to  another  state  of  exist- 
ence." One  of  the  saddest  of  modern  English  poets 
thus  closes  a  poem  entitled  Consolation. 

I  Tlie  hour,  wliose  hiipjjy 
Uiuilloyed  moMients 
I  would  eternalize, 
Ten  tiiousiind  mourners 
Well  pleassed  see  end. 

The  bleak  stern  liour 
Whose  severe  moments 
I  would  iinnihilate, 
Is  passed  bj'  others 
In  warmth,  light,  joy. 

*  Time  so  complained  of 
Who  to  no  one  man 
Sho\ys  partiality. 
Brings  round  to  all  men 
Some  undimmed  hours. 

Whether,  on  the  whole,  existence  is  happier  or  more 
unhappy,  the  outward  world  darker  or  brighter,  the 


17 

inward  world  more  or  less  sorrowful,  can  never  v 
be  determined.  The  universal  dread  of  death,  or  ' 
unwillingness  to  leave  the  world,  the  universal  , 
desire  that  life  may  be  resumed  in  another  world  to  \ 
be  revealed  when  death  shall  have  done  his  work, 
are  testimonies  that  the  world  is  on  the  whole  beau-  / 
tiful ;  that  existence  is  on  the  whole  dear.  The 
prosperous  are  usually  the  complaining.  The  plea- 
sure seekers  are  commonly  the  suicides.  The  pros- 
perous complain  because  the  world  is  conducted  on 
moral  principles ;  the  pleasure  seekers  commit  sui- 
cide because  they  have  never  looked  for  solid  satis- 
factions, and  such  delights  as  they  have  create  disgust 
at  a  world  made  not  for  appetites,  but  for  hearts  and 
consciences.  To  cultivate  a  habit  of  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  the  world,  and  a  principle  of  living 
close  to  real  things,  is  the  best  antidote  to  such 
atheistic  fears  as  these.  "  The  instincts  teach,"  says 
Emerson,  "that  the  problem  of  essence  must  take 
precedence  of  all  others — the  question  of  Whence? 
What?  And  Whither?  And  the  solution  of  these 
must  be  in  a  life,  and  not  in  a  book."  When  the 
life  comes  how  easy  the  solution  appears !  It  is  easj'' 
to  believe  in  a  beautiful  world  when  the  sun  rises  in 
June ;  and  in  the  presence  of  a  persistently  bright 
spirit,  bright  not  from  felicity  of  temperament,  but 
•from  perseverance  of  faith,  the  chimeras  of  the  un- 


18 

believers  vanish  like  the  wild  creatures  that  make 
terrible  the  night  by  their  cries.  In  presence  of  a 
true  man  who  does  his  duty,  unbelief  seems  a  thing 
to  be  apologized  for.  The  nearer  one  lives  to  the 
daily  realities  of  existence  the  less  he  feels  like 
doubting  the  health  of  the  world. 

A  brilliant  writer  of  England  has  made  familiar 
to  us  a  definition  of  God  which  has  the  merit  of  sim- 
plicity, as  well  as  of  originality.  It  is  as  little  open  to 
criticism  as  a  definition  can  be.  God  he  calls  "  a 
Power  outside  of  us  that  works  for  Righteousness." 

A  Power  outside  of  us, — of  the  existence  and 
reality  of  that  none  can  doubt.  Many  recognize 
power  outside  of  them  and  power  only  ;  the  play  t)f 
vast  forces  against  which  man  has  as  much  as  he  can 
do  to  maintain  himself.  At  moments  we  are  unmind- 
ful of  it ;  only  at  moments  ;  for  no  sooner  do  we  re- 
flect on  any  incident  of  existence  than  we  become 
aware  that  we  are  in  the  grasp  of  tremendous  forces 
before  which  our  lives  are  as  leaves  in  the  Autumn 
forest.  No  man  ever  truly  lived  who  did  not  feel  the 
awful  presence  of  these  powers.  Their  vastness  and 
comprehensiveness  and  irresistible  strength  make 
the  burden  of  the  atheist's  argument.  For  the  word 
"  God  "  if  it  have  any  intelligible  meaning,  stands  ■ 
for  order,  harmony,  beauty,  goodness,  and  the  ap- 
parent recklessness,  fury,  pitilessness  of  this  power 


19 

outside  of  men ;  its  seeming  indifference  to  human 
happiness  and  welfare,  make  it  for  some  easier  to 
deny  the  existence  of  God  than  to  believe  it. 

On  the  other  hand  people  of  emotion  and  passion 
are  often  led  by  the  omnipotence  of  this  power  out- 
side of  men,  to  believe  in  too  much  God.  Every- 
thing to  them  is  God ;  there  is  a  God  for  each  stock 
and  stone  and  plant ;  a  God  for  everything  they 
have  not  made  or  done  themselves.  The  larger  part 
of  their  life  may  be  spent  in  efforts  to  keep  this  ter- 
rible power  at  a  distance,  to  propitiate  it,  elude  it,  • 
buy  it  off.  Hence  the  ugly  thing  called  superstition, 
the  worship  of  a  power,  capricious,  wilful,  immoral 
that  must  be  bribed  or  cajoled  into  harmlessness.  The 
openings  into  superstition  in  this  direction  are  num- 
berless still ;  a  few  are  closed,  but  enough  remain  un- 
shut  to  admit  people  any  day  into  its  gloomy  recesses. 
In  ordinary  times  men  occupied  with  their  own  activi- 
ties, and  absorbed  in  their  own  achievements,  scarcely 
think  of  this  outlying  power.  But  ever  and  anon 
something  occurs  which  they  cannot  account  for  some- 
thing they  did  not  intentionally  bring  to  pass,  would 
not  have  brought  to  pass  on  an}^  account,  would  have 
prevented  had  they  foreseen  it,  would  escape  if  they 
were  swift  enough,  would  repel  if  they  were  wise  or 
strong  enough, — a  famine,  a  flood,  a  commercial 
crisis,  a  social  uproar,  a  political  revolution, — the 


20 

power  outside  of  them  shows  a  ghastly  presence, 
and  at  a  signal  from  the  priests  tliey  crowd  the 
churches,  and  put  up  prayers  for  deliverance.  So 
many  things  go  on  all  the  time  that  human  beings 
have  no  hand  or  voice  in,  so  many  things  happen 
occasionally  that  they  have  no  control  over,  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  awe  deepening  into  trust,  or  rising 
into  terror,  is  excited  by  the  demonstrations  of  force, 
whether  breaking  out  with  the  suddenness  of 
miracle,  or  rushing  along  with  the  terrible  precision 
of  law.  There  is  no  probability  that  the  demon- 
strations of  this  power  in  any  but  usual  forms  will 
for  ages  on  ages  to  come,  be  so  familiar  to  untutored 
and  unreflecting  people  that  they  will  not  be  stag- 
gered or  startled  by  them ;  it  is  not  likely  that  it 
will  ever  be  entirely  disarmed  or  disenchanted.  It 
is  at  present  inconceivable  that  human  knowledge, 
however  it  may  be  increased,  will  so  thoroughly 
adopt  into  human  activities  the  power  outside  of  us 
that  no  manifestations  of  it  will  excite  surprise. 
Indeed,  as  knowledge  increases,  wonder  increases, 
too ;  science  reveals  more  marvels  than  it  disposes 
of;  and  the  power  the  savage  cowers  under,  the 
sage  adores. 

The  question  of  questions  is,  therefore,  does  this 
power  work  for  righteousness  ?  If  it  does,  the  heart 
of  the  Theist  is  satisfied.     There  may  be  a  thousand 


things  he  cannot  explain;  a  thonsand  tiling's  that 
are  an  iinfatlioinahle  niystcrv  to  him:  j^rohlfins  lie 
cannot  so  nmeh  as  h(':^in  to  solve:  ([Ut'stions  he  can- 
not pretend  to  answer  :  (h:)nl)ts  he  can  (hj  iiolhinL,^  to 
still.  Xotwithstandinu;  all  tliis.  if  on  the  whole,  on 
extended  lines,  in  the  hisitjiy  of  nations,  in  the  ex- 
perience of  a;4'es,  it  can  ])e  made  to  appear,  ^\■ith  a 
brilliancy  a  good  deal  less  than  that  of  mid-day, 
with  a  shaded  and  clotided  clearness,  that  tlie  power 
outside  of  iis.  which  works  with  sneh  tmreraittin':::^ 
enersfv  and  such  iinihiu'crinu;  continuance.  Morks  for 
righteousness, — for  righteousness  of  a  general  kind, 
for  righteousness  of  that  description  which  none  btit 
intellectual  and  morally  cultivated  people  will  be 
able  to  recognize  as  righteousness,  which  undiscern- 
ing  and  passionate  people  will  reckon  to  l)e  no 
righteousness  or  rightness  at  all,  Ijut  crookedness 
and  waywardness  rather,  if  uot  cruelty  and  perver- 
sity.— with  as  much  as  this  the  heart  of  the  Theist 
will  be  content. 

To  prove  that  the  power  outside  of  its  does  work 
for  righteousness  is  more  than  I  shall  undertake  now, 
—  is  more  than  I  would  undertake  at  any  time,  if  I 
had  leisure  and  space  unlimited.  For  to  establish 
that  would  require  a  range  of  knowledge,  an  under 
standing  of  processes  and  laws,  a  faeuliy  of  discern- 
ment, a  gift  of  reasoning  such  as  no  man  who  lives, 


22 

no  man  who  will  live  within  half  a  thousand  years  can 
pretend  to.  None  but  the  extremely  foolish  under- 
take to  dogmatize  about  that;  none  but  the  witless 
claim  to  know  about  it.  Thus  far  we  have  material 
for  faith  but  nothing  more ;  faith  that  gives  sub- 
stance to  things  hoped  for  and  evidence  of  things 
not  seen.  Materials  for  faith  are  within  reach  of 
(^  any  that  care  to  possess  them. 

There  are  those  who  doubt  if  righteousness  be  on 
the  increase.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  if  they  would 
cease  to  make  bitter  assertions  out  of  their  cynicism, 
and  would  lift  up  their  eyes  to  see  what  actual 
knowledge  has  disclosed,  their  tone  must  change. 
For  to  deny  the  fact  that  the  surface  of  the  material 
globe  has  gained  in  richness  in  the  course  of  millions 
of  years ;  that  the  animal  creation  has  advanced  in 
beauty  of  form  and  excellence  of  endowment ;  that 
human  life  has  become  longer,  safer,  more  comfort- 
able, more  privileged,  more  full  of  promise ;  that 
man  is  gradually  getting  the  better  of  his  enemies, 
overcoming  his  vices,  emerging  from  the  condition  of 
the  beast  into  the  condition  of  the  rational  being ; — 
to  deny  that  there  has  been  progress  in  sciences  and 
arts,  progress  also  in  social  arrangements  and  the 
type  of  individual  character,  is  in  our  day  reckoned 
nothing  short  of  audacious.  The  doctrine  of  de- 
velopment, under    some    form  of  statement,  is  ac- 


23 

cepted  by  thinkers  of  every  important  school  in  our 
generation,  scientific  and  popular,  liberal  and  or- 
thodox. It  is  the  watchword  of  the  age.  Now  de- 
velopment suggests  progress,  and  progress  suggests 
advance,  and  advance  suggests  rightness  of  direction. 
Who  or  what  is  responsible  for  this  advance? 
Are  men  responsible  for  it  ?  Surely  not ;  not  even 
indirectly.  With  much  of  it  the  human  race  has  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do,  even  indirectly ;  with  most 
of  it  the  human  race  has  been  associated  merely  as 
agent  and  tool.  As  we  reflect  on  the  matter,  the 
proposed  achievements  of  the  human  race,  the  de- 
liberate resolutions  and  thoughtfully  directed  efforts 
have  been  and  are  very  few  and  almost  insignificant. 
In  any  age  and  country  the  men  and  women  who 
make  it  their  business,  or  any  great  part  of  their 
business,  to  improve  the  condition  of  society  in  any 
particular  are  quite  inconsiderable  in  number  and 
force.  The  band  of  reformers  has  never  been  large, 
and  they  have  seldom  succeeded  in  accomplishing 
the  ends  they  had  in  view.  When  they  have 
succeeded,  as  in  the  case  of  the  abolition'of  slavery 
in  America,  their  success  was  due,  and  was  by  the 
confession  of  the  worthiest  among  them  admitted  to 
be  due,  to  the  operation  of  vast  moral  and  social 
forces  which  embraced  the  whole  civilized  globe. 
The  abolitionists  did  not  overthrow  slavery :    The 


24 

accumulated  moral  sense,  the  gathered  experience, 
the  heaped  up  and  massive  indignation  of  mankind 
abolished  it.  It  was  the  same  with  the  African  slave 
trade ;  it  was  the  same  with  the  English  corn  laws. 
There  comes  a  time  when  the  sea  of  moral  being  that 
has  been  slumbering,  wakes  and  deals  a  shuddering 
blow  at  some  ancient  barrier.  These  agitations  are 
by  some  ascribed  to  changes  in  the  moon,  and  the 
people  who  are  influenced  by  them  are  called  luna- 
tics ;  but  it  is  understood  by  the  intelligent,  that  the 
unconscious  humanity  which  is  deeper  than  the  will, 
is  answerable  for  these  agitations,  and  that  obeys 
laws  that  human  discovery  has  never  sounded. 

How  small  is  the  number  of  people  who  endeavor 
to  improve  themselves !  Yet  the  level  of  character  is 
continually  on  the  rise.  Most  are  absorbed  in  the 
search  after  pleasure  or  profit,  the  amusement  or  the 
benefit  of  the  hour.  And  yet  the  moral  level  of  all 
is  insensibly  lifted.  This  fact  surely  encourages  the 
faith  that  the  power  that  works  outside  of  us  does  make 
for  righteousness.  It  is  indeed  exceedingly  difficult 
for  individuals  to  cultivate  themselves  much  beyond 
the  mark  of  the  better  portions  of  their  generation. 
None  but  the  very  few  do  it,  or  try  to  do  it ;  none  but 
rarely  endowed  persons  have  the  motive  or  ambition 
to  do  it,  appreciate  the  importance  of  doing  it,  or 
command  the  resources  for  doing:  it.     The  increase  of 


2') 

moral  sentiment,  moral  conviction,  moral  worth  and  ' 
principle  in  a  community  is  one  of  the  mysterious 
things  it  is  good  bnt  never  quite  satisfactory  to  con- 
template.    It  makes  us  think  of  the  powerlessness 
of  the  collective  will  of  man  ;  it  makes  us  mindful  of^ 
our  dependence  on  something  outside  of  ourselves  i 
to  which  for  want  of  a  better  word  we  give  the  name,,' 
of  God. 

Is  there  any  satisfaction  to  the  heart  in  dwelling 
on  thi&  name?  The  atheist  says  there  is  none,  but 
dissatisfaction  rather;  for  it  calls  our  thoughts  away 
from  actual  duties,  substitutes  contemplation  for  toil, 
worship  for  work,  faith  and  hope  for  conviction  and 
purpose.  If  this  w^ere  true,  then  theism  would  be 
a  practical  error,  and  the  thought  of  the  power  out- 
side of  us,  although  making  directly  for  righteousness, 
would  be  disabling.  Atheism,  that  awakens  responsi- 
bility, puts  conscience  on  its  mettle  and  stimulates  hu- 
man endeavor,  is  better  than  theism  that  lulls  people 
to  sleep  and  encourages  them  to  dream. 

It  is  as  suppl3dng  a  background  and  support  for 
energy  that  Theism  is  precious  to  the  men  who  hold 
it  in  faith;  that  the  workers  may  not  feel  that 
they  work  alone,  that  the  reformers  may  be  embold- 
ened and  sustained  by  the  action  of  powers  all  the 
more  trustworthy  because  inscrutable ;  that  the 
champions  may  have  the  promise  of  victory  before 


2(5 

their  eyes,  and,  undismayed  by  the  hosts  of  their 
enemies,  unweakened  by  the  sense  of  their  own 
impuissance,  may  fight  on  to  the  end,  the  theist 
contends  for  his  belief.  To  stand  alone  is  hard ; 
even  when  the  loneliness  is  loneliness  among  men  ; 
but  when  it  is  that  utter  loneliness  of  the  will  that 
finds  no  companionship  in  the  invisible  powers 
which  faith  and  hope  bring  near,  only  here  and  there 
one  can  bear  it.  The  creed  of  that  one  is  no  creed 
for  humanity.  We  may  respect  him,  may  admire  and 
honor  him,  may  concede  to  him  a  certain  moral 
grandeur,  but  he  must  not  expect  mankind  to  feed 
on  his  mental  foods.  If  the  unthinking  multitude 
look  at  him  askance,  with  a  kind  of  horror,  he  must 
not  complain. 

And  if  brave  men  need  support  in  battle, 
much  more  do  sorrowful  men  need  it  for  their  weari- 
ness. Think  as  cheerfully  as  we  may  of  the  world 
we  live  in  ;  look  as  brightly  as  we  may  on  the  expe- 
riences of  life,  it  is  still  true  that  existence  has  its 
melancholy  side.  Whether  or  no  the  sad  days  are 
more  than  the  joyous,  the  disappointments  more 
than  the  satisfactions,  the  bitter  more  than  the  sweet, 
certain  it  is  that  the  sad  days  come  often,  the  disap- 
pointments fall  fast,  the  bitter  cups  are  frequent- 
and  full.  To  this  side  of  our  human  experience, 
the    faith     of     Theism    comes    with     the     holiest 


27 

consolations.  "It  is  indeed,"  says  an  eloquent 
writer,  "the  greatest  thing  allowed  to  mankind, 
— ^the  germ  of  every  lesser  greatness :  and  he 
who  can  say  'I  have  faith  in  the  Almighty,' 
makes  a  higher  boast  than  if  he  could  declare  '  the 
Mediterranean  is  my  garden,  and  mine  is  every 
branch  that  waves  upon  its  shores,  from  the  cedars 
of  Lebanon  to  the  pine  upon  the  Alps  !'  How  often 
in  the  stifling  heat  and  press  of  life,  when  trivial 
cares  rise  with  dry  and  dusty  cloud  to  shut  us  in, 
do  we  wholly  lose  our  place  in  the  great  calm  of 
God,  and  fret  as  if  there  were  no  Infinite  Reason 
embracing  the  vortex  of  the  world !  In  loneliness 
and  exhaustion,  when  the  spirits  are  weak,  and  the 
crush  of  circumstances  is  strong;  when  comrades 
rest  ^nd  sleep,  and  we  must  toil  and  watch ;  when 
the  love  of  friends  grows  cold,  and  the  warm  light 
of  youth  is  quenched,  and  the  promises  of  years 
seem  broken,  and  hope  has  but  one  chapter  more, 
how  little  do  we  think,  as  the  boughs  drip  sadly 
with  all  this  night  rain,  that  we  lodge  in  Eden 
still,  where  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  rustles  in,  the 
trees,  and  bespeaks  the  blossom  and  the  fruit  that 
can  only  spring  from  tears." 


THOUGHTS  ABOUT  GOD. 

On  successive  Sundays  we  have  discussed  ques- 
tions relating  to  the  Existence  and  Providence  of 
God.  There  is  one  point,  not  touched  in  those  dis- 
cussions, a  point  of  deep  interest  and  even  of  funda- 
mental concern,  which  I  wish  to  bring  up  to-day : 
This,  namely,  whether  we  have  a  right  to  discuss 
such  questions  at  all ;  whether  we  are  warranted  in 
assuming  that  the  Being  we  term  God  has  any  such 
resemblance  to  our  thought  of  him  that  it  is  be- 
coming or  safe  for  us  to  reason  about  his  mind  and 
will.  The  Hebrew  Scriptures  earnestly  and  repeat- 
edly insist  on  the  incapacity  of  the  human  mind  to 
comprehend  or  even  apprehend  the  ways  of  the 
Supreme  Power ;  they  declare  that  his  thoughts  are 
not  as  our  thoughts;  that  his  ways  are  past  our 
finding  out.  "  Lo,  He  goeth  by  me  and  I  see  Him 
not ;    He  passeth  on,  but  I  perceive  Him  not  j    I  go 


forward,  but  He  is  not  there  ;  and  backward,  but  1 
cannot  perceive  Him."  ''  Thy  way  is  on  the  sea,  and 
thy  path  in  the  great  waters,  and  thy  footsteps  are 
not  known."  Still,  notwithstanding  such  frequent 
declarations,  the  believers  in  the  Scripture,  perpetu- 
ally speak  as  if  they  knew  all  about  the  Unknown, 
understood  perfectly  the  designs  of  the  Inscrutable, 
were  in  the  secret  confidence  of  the  Hidden  One ; 
as  if  their  thoughts  of  him  Avere  just,  their  descrip- 
tions of  him  accurate,  their  expectations  from  him, 
well  grounded.  They  claim  a  closer  acquaintance 
with  God  than  they  would  presume  to  claim  with  a 
bo  som  friend,  and  predict  his  action  in  any  special 
case  more  forcibly  than  they  venture  to  forecast  the 
future  of  the  stock  board  or  the  caucus. 

Now  the  one  point  I  wish  to  press '  is  this  ;  that 
our  thoughts  of  God  are  all  Ave  have; — Whether  they 
be  wise  or  foolish,  deep  or  shallow,  just  or  erring, — 
our  thoughts  are  all  we  have.  God  we  have  not. 
He  has  never  been  approached  or  seen,  so  as  to  be 
described.  From  the  nature  of  things,  he  is  alto-^ 
getlier  out  of  the  reach  of  our  faculties.  Think 
about  him  we  may;  but  when  the  wisest  have  ex- 
hausted their  strength,  it  is  still  no  more  than  a 
thought.  The  picture  framed  by  a  human  mind,  is 
inadequate  of  course,  and  subject  to  correction.  The 
Trinitarians  think  of  God  as  three  Persons  in  One ; 


the  Unitarians  think  of  God  as  an  undivided  Unity ; 
the  Theist  thinks  of  God  as  a  holy  Being  ;  the  Pan- 
theist thinks  of  God  as  the  Soul  of  the  world ;  but 
each  has  only  his  thought ;  neither  has  a  superhuman 
knowledge.  The  thought  of  one  may  be  correct,  the 
thought  of  the  other  may  be  incorrect;  but  the 
thought  of  neither  is  anything  more  than  a  thought. 

In  this,  it  is  not  implied  that  God  does  not  exist 
as  a  being,  but  only  that  we  do  not  apprehend  him 
as  a  being.  It  is  impossible  for  me  not  to  believe  C, 
that  the  universe  is  governed  by  an  intelligent  will ; 
but  it  is  equally  impossible  for  me  to  imagine  the 
nature  of  the  intelligence  or  to  conjecture  the  move- 
ments of  the  will.  Believe  in  the  Supreme  Power, 
trust  it,  repose  on  it  as  we  may,  it  still  is  a  reality 
beyond  our  comprehension  or  our  reach.  This  is  a 
point  that  cannot  be  seized  too  firmly.  The  stronger 
my  faith  in  God,  the  more  modest  my  estimate  of 
such  an  idea  of  him  as  it  is  practicable  for  me  to 
form.  The  notion  that  he  might  be  such  a  Being  as 
mind  can  conceive,  no  greater,  no  wiser,  no  nobler 
would  drive  me  into  atheism.  It  is  only  by  remem- 
bering faithfully  the  utter  inadequacy  of  my  thought 
that  I  can  make  him  an  object  of  adoration. 

Is  it  urged  on  the  part  of  some  believer  in  reve-  . 
lation,  that  all  this  is  true,  but  is  inapplicable  to 
him ;  that  while  human  thoughts  of  God  are  inade- 


quate,  divine  thoughts  of  him  are  not ;  that  the 
thoughts  of  the  Christian  believer  are  not  human  but 
divine,  being  communicated  through  special  inspira- 
ration,  by  God  himself,  and  written  plainly  in  the 
Scriptures?  Is  it  urged  that  the  Scriptures  expressly 
declare  "  The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the  things  of 
the  spirit  of  God  for  they  are  foolishness  to  him  ; 
that  they  are  spiritually  discerned;  that  no  man 
knoweth  the  mind  of  the  Lord,  but  that  the  spiritual 
who  "have  the  mind  of  Christ "  who  is  himself  the 
Lord,  judge  all  things  ? 

I  reply,  that  this  mind  has  not  been  com- 
municated with  such  clearness  or  with  such 
authority'-  that  its  divine  character  is  self-evident  to 
all  open  minds:  that  the  thoughts  about  God  in 
the  Scriptures  are  many  and  conflicting;  that  no 
one  stands  out  with  commanding  prominence;  and 
that,  when  all  is  said  that  can  be  said,  the  believer's 
conviction  is  still  no  more  than  his  conviction  ;  his 
conception  of  the  revelation  is  his  conception,  his 
thought  of  the  divine  thought  is  merely  his  thought. 
He  has  not  stepped  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own 
mind.  His  thought  does  not  change  its  character 
because  he  ascribes  it  to  God  ;  for  that  ascription  may 
be  a  mistake.  What  he  calls  a  revelation  may  be 
an  illusion;  it  cannot  be  more  than  a  persuasion. 

Human    thoughts     about     God    are    of    every 


character  of  nobleness  and  ignobleness.  They  vary 
with  culture,  civilization,  phases  of  experience,  moods 
of  feeling.  The  same  person  ma}'-,  in  different  states 
of  mind,  go  to  extremes  of  belief  and  unbelief;  may 
pass  from  materialism  to  spiritualism,  from  atheism 
to  pantheism.  After  reading  some  strong  scientific 
book,  describing  the  physical  constitution  and  devel- 
opment of  the  world,  the  close  connection  of  sequen- 
ces and  consequences,  the  slow  growth  of  systems, 
like  flowers  from  seeds,  the  mind  is  baffled  and  be- 
wildered ;  force  and  law  usurp  the  whole  domain  of 
providence,  and  it  is  impossible  to  find  a  place  for 
creative  thought  or  directing  purpose.  At  another 
time,  when  the  conscience  is  roused  by  some  moral 
turpitude,  or  some  palpable  wrong  it  feels  impelled 
to  resent  and  resist,  a  sense  of  responsibility  leaps 
into  light  from  the  dark,  the  consciousness  of  moral 
freedom  and  moral  power  is  stimulated,  the  impulse 
to  dare  and  do  is  strong,  ^nd  the  Supreme  Power 
ceases  to  be  a  law  and  becomes  a  lawgiver — a  holy 
God — the  hater  of  iniquity  and  the  foe  of  wrong. 
In  Another  mood  one  is  in  the  country  or  by  the  sea- 
side ;  the  eternal  beauty  shines  upon  him  from  every 
object,and  steals  in  upon  him  through  every  sense ;  the 
whole  world  seems  alive,  the  sky  with  stars,  the 
earth  with  flowers  and  verdure  and  fruits,  the  ocean 
with  waves,  the  woods  with  insects,  flying  and  creep- 


iiig  things  of  every  form  and  hue,  the  very  rocks 
with  lichens  and  crawling  plants ;  the  pulses  of  be- 
ing are  audibly  throbbing; — he  can  almost  hear  the 
flow  of  the  all-pervading  life,  and  see  the  trailing 
garments  of  the  perpetual  creator  and  recreator  as  he 
passes  from  atom  to  atom ;  then  he  feels  rather  than 
thinks,  it  is  born  in  upon  him  with  an  overwhelming 
persuasion,  that  God  is  present  in  all  things,  living 
and  breathing  in  all,  painting  the  lily*  giving  fra- 
grance to  the  rose,  sparkling  in  the  dew  drop,  breath- 
ing in  the  wind,  blessing  in  the  rain  ;  not  an  indi- 
vidual but  an  energy ;  not  a  conscious  person  but  a 
flowing  life.  Each  mood  may  be  genuine ;  each  im- 
pression clear;  each  inference  just  in  its  place  and 
degree,  but  neither  of  course  is  complete  or  lasting. 
In  another  phase  of  feeling,  the  same  person,  lapsing 
into  despondency,  deprjessed  by  a  sense  of  weakness, 
crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  self-reproach  and 
sorrow,  in  penitential  grief  or  passion  of  shame  will 
think  of  God  as  frowning  and  angry  ;  will  feel  like 
fleeing  from  him  in  terror  or  kneeling  to  him  in  con- 
trition ;  will  wish  to  hide  from  his  face  ;  will  pray 
that  his  face  may  be  turned  graciously  towards  him ; 
will  cry  out  for  help ;  will  call  for  the  Saviour,  and 
be  in  a  frame  to  ask  absolution  from  a  priest.  The 
mood  passes,  the  clouds  roll  away,  the  skies  are 
clear    once     more,    the     phantoms    disappear,    the 


9 

Godhead  clothes  himself  with  light  and  glory.  If 
the  mind  rests  long  in  one  of  these  moods,  the  image 
of  deity  becomes  fixed  and  permanent ;  a  dogma  of 
Deity  is  created.  If  the  mind  is  a  true  one  and  grow- 
ing, the  images  vanish,  and  tha  thought  clears  itself 
more  and  more  as  the  heavens  clear  themselves  of 
vapors. 

Human  thoughts  about  God  harden  into  theolo- 
gies by  being  retained  and   dwelt  on.     There  is  the 
child's  thought.     It  is  conveyed  in  the  lovely  legend 
of  Eden.     The  child  does  not  observe  with  the  ej^e  cf 
science  ;  does  not  compare  ;  does  not  reason  ;  has  no 
experience ;    has  acquired   no    rule    for  measuring 
effects  or  proportions  ;  has  no  knowledge  ;  of  fancies 
is   full.      The  mind   is  active,   but  unregulated;  it 
believes  in  miracle  because  it  has  no  conception  of 
order  and   law,  and  makes  no  distinction   between 
probable  and  improbable,  possible   and  impossible. 
The  rustling  leaves  on  the  ground  are  the  footsteps 
of  the  God  who  walks  in  the  garden  at  the  cool  of  the 
evening ;  the  murmur  in  the  tree-tops  as  the    wind 
passes  over  them  is  the  voice  of  God  speaking  to  the 
spirits    or   communing    audibly    with   himself;    he 
makes  the  flowers   and  colors  them  ;  he   holds   the 
bird  in  his  hands  so  that  he   need  not  fall  from  the 
heights  of  the  air  ;    he  brings  the  baby  in  the  night 
to  the  parent's  arms  ;  he  provides  food  and  clothing. 


10 

The  child  asks  God  for  a  doll  or  a  drum  as  simply  as 
it  will  ask  its  mother ;  will  go  into  the  closet  and 
talk  with  him  ;  will  tell  what  he  has  said  ;  will  pour 
out  sorrows  into  his  ear,  and  propound  questions  to 
him  with  absolute  confidence.  The  child's  thought 
is  true  for  the  child,  and  so  long  as  it  is  quite  natural 
will  do  no  harm  ;  it  is  only  when  the  man — forget- 
ting that  the  man  should  put  away  childish  things — • 
makes  the  child's  thought  his  own,  fails  to  correct  it 
by  knowledge  and  experience,  and  lives,  a  mature 
mind  in  a  baby  world,  that  the  thought  becomes 
unworthy  and  even  debasing. 

The  rude  man,  violent  and  cruel,  has  his  thought 
of  God.  The  ancient  Hebrew,  contending  for  the 
Land  of  Promise,  living  in  camp,  passing  his  days  in 
battle  and  his  nights  in  watch,  worshipped  above  all 
qualities  swiftness  and  valor  and  annihilating  might. 
His  God  was  strong  in  battle  ;  none  other  could  be 
his  God.  To  order  the  extermination  of  the 
Canaanites,  saving  only  the  women  whom  the  sol- 
diers wanted  for  wives  ;  to  arrest  the  sun  and  moon 
that  rout  and  carnage  might  be  complete  ;  to  blow 
stone  walls  down  with  the  breath  of  his  mouth ;  to 
blast  armies  by  pestilence  in  a  single  night  ;  to 
enable  striplings  to  conquer  giants,  were  God-like 
performances.  All  natural  and  excusable  enough  in 
savage  people,  so  long  as  they  remained  savage  ;  the 


11 

soldier's  bloody  but  instinctive  thought,  but  a 
thought  that  should  pass,  be  deplored  and  be  for- 
gotten. 

The  bigot  has  his  thought  of  God  ;  we  read  this, 
too,  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  wars  of  conquest 
are  nearly  ended  ;  the  tribes  have  become  fixed  in 
their  sections  ;  social  order  and  law  have  become, 
to  a  certain  extent,  established.  A  king  has  been 
chosen  ;  a  priesthood  is  instituted.  Now  the  "  man 
of  God"  is  recognized  as  being  superior  to  the  "  man 
of  war."  Saul  returns  from  battle  with  the  Amale- 
kites,  bringing  their  kijjg  captive.  Soldier-like  he 
respects  his  royal  prisoner  and  would  spare  his  life. 
But  Samuel,  the  priestly  judge,  will  not  have  it  so. 
It  is  "  the  Lord's  will"  that  unbelievers  should  be 
exterminated.  He  fiercely  upbraids  Saul  for  his 
wicked  leniency,  threatens  to  pluck  the  crown  from 
his  head  and  remand  him  to  the  low  estate  to  which 
he  was  born.  Then,  summoning  before  him  Agag, 
the  captive  king,  in  the  presence  of  the  host  he  hews 
him  in  pieces.  This  is  what  the  Lord  is  supposed  to 
approve  of ;  the  Lord  of  the  priest.  Such  a  thought 
was  natural  in  the  time  of  Samuel,  but  it  would  be 
unnatural  and  unpardonable  now.  It  was  the 
thought  of  a  narrow  minded  age,  and  should  have 
been  a  passing  thought,  to  be  repented  of  and 
dropped. 


12 

Evil  proceeds,  not  from  the  false  idea,  but  from 
the  needlessly  false  idea  ;  from  the  idea  that  is  out- 
grown and  should  have  been  dismissed  ;  the  idea 
that  no  longer  stands  for  a  perfectly  honest  and  sin- 
cere state  of  mind.  A  great  deal  of  indignation  has 
been  bestowed  on  the  false  ideas  of  God.  The  indig- 
nation would  have  been  directed  to  better  purpose  if 
it  had  been  turned  against  the  error  of  imagining 
that  the  Being  we  name  God  corresponds  with  any 
image  we  form  of  him  in  our  minds.  This  is  the 
evil,  the  confounding  of  our  thought  about  God  with 
God  himself  ;  the  reasoning  from  one  to  the  other  ; 
the  identification  of  our  minds  with  the  Infinite 
Mind,  of  our  intentions  with  the  Absolute  Will. 

This  evil  let  us  try  now  to  measure,  as  people 
should  who  are  impressed  with  its  magnitude  and 
anxious  to  counteract  its  effects.  There  is  no  thought 
so  imperious  as  that  of  God ;  none  that  takes  such 
hold  on  the  imagination,  is  so  associated  with  au- 
thority, is  so  arbitrary  in  its  claim.  We  must  bear 
all  this  in  mind  in  order  that  our  criticism  may  not 
seem  too  severe. 

1.  In  the  first  place  it  is  very  obvious  that  the 
habit  of  associating  our  thoughts  of  God  with  him- 
self is  deeply  injurious,  if  not  fatal,  to  humility  ;  nor 
can  anything  but  presumption  and  arrogance  be 
engendered  by  such  a  process.     The  greatest  sage, 


13 

the  deepest  philosopher,  the  most  eminent  saint,  so 
long  as  he  bears  in  mind  the  purely  human  and  limited 
nature  of  his  thought  retains  his  modesty,  is  teach- 
able, willing  to  correct  the  mistakes  and  more  than 
willing  to  mend  the  defects  of  his  intelligence. 
Newton,  one  of  the  highest  minds  of  the  race,  spoke 
of  himself  as  a  little  child  picking  up  pebbles  on  the 
shore  of  infinite  being.  Goethe,  one  of  the  few 
intellects  that  deserve  to  be  called  "  godlike,"  mur- 
mured, as  he  was  dying,  a  prayer  for  more  light.  Far 
from  such  minds  as  these  is  the  spirit  of  dogmatism 
and  intolerance,  the  spirit  of  bigotry  and  intellect- 
ual tyranny.  They  are  glad  to  know  the  thoughts 
of  others  ;  happy  in  feeling  that  while  they  think 
others  are  thinking  in  new  directions  and  by  other 
methods.  But  the  smallest,  darkest,  narrowest  mind 
possessed  by  the  insane  fancy  that  its  thought  of 
deity  is  ratified  in  heaven,  that  there  is  an  infinite 
being  behind  his  crepuscular  lucubration,  that  the 
twinkle  of  his  taper  is  the  veritable  "  Sun  of  Right 
eousness  "  in  all  its  glory, — erects  itself  like  a  king, 
robes  itself  in  the  garments  of  a  priest,  affirms, 
argues,  judges,  denounces,  puts  by  the  wisdom  of 
ages,  remands  Plato  to  a  closet,  and  Socrates  to  a 
corner,  talks  of  "  vain  philosophy,"  the  "  emptyness 
of  human  wisdom  "  and  ramps  about  in  the  fields  of 
literature   as   if   all  there  were  weeds   and  rushes. 


14 

Such  a  mind,  fortified  with  this  strange  assurance, 
will  speak  of  its  own  wishes  as  God's  intentions,  its 
own  resolves  as  God's  purposes,  its  own  undertak- 
ings as  God's  work,  the  results  of  its  own  perform- 
ance as  the  evident  interposition  of  God's  hand.  It 
excites  itself  by  the  dream  of  its  own  inspiration,  and 
carries  others  away  by  the  magnetism  which  such 
dreamers  always  exercise  over  sensitive  spirits,  and 
revels  in  the  conviction  that  God  is  about  some  pro- 
digious enterprise  for  the  salvation  of  mankind,  be- 
cause its  own  faculties  are  at  white  heat. 

The  revival  preacher  is  the  victim  of  this  singular 
delusion.  Could  he  realize  that  the  thoughts  he  has 
about  God  and  Providence,  however  glowing,  are  still 
simply  his  own ;  that  other  people  have  their  thoughts,  ■ 
equally  sincere — and  perhaps  more  enlightened ; 
that  his  thought  is  entitled  to  influence  according  to 
its  worth  and  no  more,  his  whole  movement  would 
be  arrested.  He  might  labor,  conscientiously  and  in- 
tently, but  he  would  labor  reasonably,  more  as  a  man 
does  who  would  persuade  his  fellows,less  as  a  man  does 
who  would  bear  and  beat  them  down,  A  liberal 
minister  speaking  of  the  revival  of  Calvinism  at 
present  spreading  over  the  country,  remarked,  and 
in  a  spirit  that  has  been  commended  as  one  of  ex- 
ceeding candor, — that  for  his  part  he  had  not  the 
presumption  to  criticize  it ;  that  it  was  not  for  him 


15 

to  tell  God  how  he  ought  to  proceed  to  awaken  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  country,  nor  could  he  pretend  to 
judge  him  when  he  saw  him  at  Mork.  But  this  is 
conceding  the  very  point  in  dispute.  Is  God  at 
Work?  That  is  the  question.  Certain  Revivalists 
are  at  work  ;  certain  of  the  •'  Evangelical '"  clergy 
and  laity  are  at  work,  but  that  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  the  working  of  the  supreme  intelligence 
and  power.  It  may  be  useful  and  good  work ;  very 
beneficent  and  necessary  work ;  work  in  the  per- 
formance whereof  all  earnest  men  and  women  may 
take  satisfaction.  It  is  f/«e/r  work  nevertheless;  the 
credit  of  it  all  belongs  to  them.  It  is  no  more  en- 
titled to  be  called  God's  work,  because  it  is  done  in 
the  name  of  God,  than  the  work  of  thtir  opponents, 
the  work  of  scientific  men,  of  honest  journalists,  of 
worthy  merchants,  is  entitled  to  be  called  God's  work. 
In  a  certain  sense  all  good  work  is  God's  work, 
because  all  good  work  is  done  in  accordance  with 
established  law.  In  another  sense,  none  of  it  is  God's 
work,  because  it  is  done  with  the  limited  intelli- 
gence, aim  and  intention  of  men. 

No  doubt  this  association  of  their  thoughts  with 
God  is  a  great  assistance  in  their  work.  If  it  were 
understood  generally  that  the  thoughts  of  the 
"  Evangelists  "  were  their  own  and  not  God's,  that 
they   were   doing   as   they  were  impelled  to  do  by 


16 

their  human  motives,  and  not  as  they  were  driven  to 
do  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  their  audiences  would  greatly 
fall  off,  their  prayer-meetings  would  be  less  crowded, 
their  songs  and  exhortations  would  produce  less 
agitating  effects.  They  might  achieve  something,  and 
what  they  achieved  would  be  the  fairly  earned  result 
of  their  labor  ;  a  result  too  that  might  last,  and  could 
hardly  be  subject  to  the  violent  reactions  that  make 
their  actual  achievements  of  doubtful  value  and  un- 
certain character.  But  they  would  not  produce  the 
excitement  they  do  n^^w. 

Does  the  excitement  then,  justify  the  method? 
It  condemns  it ;  for  the  method  being  illegitimate, 
the  results  must  be  illegitimate  too.  What  if  some 
other  class  of  workers,  in  another  field,  the  social  and 
political  reformers  for  instance,  could  persuade  people 
that  the  work  they  were  doing  was  God's  work ;  sup- 
pose that  the  antagonist  parties  in  state  or  social 
reform  were  to  arrogate  the  infallibility  of  God  for 
their  moral  persuasions,  as  they  might  with  equal 
justice,  would  the  excitement  they  created  excuse  the 
dishonesty  they  practised  ?  Could  it  not  be  charged 
upon  them  that  they  were  pushing  their  cause  by 
false  means  and  under  false  pretences  ? 

The  mischief  in  the  case  of  the  "  Evangelists  "  is 
the  greater,  because  the  thoughts  they  entertain  of 
God  are  not  their  own,  but  are  borrowed  from  people 


17 

who  lived  in  very  different  times  and  under  very  dif- 
ferent conditions.  The  thoughts,  therefore,  have  no 
freshness,  no  living  power.  They  stand  for  ideas  that 
do  not  belong  to  this  generation,  and  perpetuate  be- 
liefs that  should  long  ago  have  been  outgrown.  God 
is  called  in  to  ratify  and  sustain  what  the  intelligence 
of  his  world  has  discarded.  This  is  a  great  and  prac- 
tical evil  ;  for  God  is  not  only  thus  made  responsible 
for  human  thoughts,  but  is  made  responsible  for  un- 
worthy, for  dishonoring  thoughts,  such  as  no  vital 
mind  furnished  with  tlie  most  recent  information 
would  for  the  first  time  entertain.  Old  errors,  mis- 
conceptions, childish  or  coarse  beliefs,  are  thus  re- 
vived and  sanctioned,  and  the  souls  of  men  are  dis- 
honorably dealt  by ;  a  mischief  than  which  few  greater 
can  be  imagined. 

2.  It  must  be  considered,  too,  that  by  associating 
our  thoughts  of  God  with  God  himself,  we  make 
them  fixed  and  immutable  dogmas,  that  iabide  from  age 
to  age,  and  educate  people  in  error  through  gener- 
ations. God  cannot  change,  and  if  our  thoughts  of 
him  are  taken  to  be  his  thoughts,  they  will  catch  the 
durability  that  belongs  to  him,  and  will  become 
institutions ;  the  human  mind  will  not  grow,  but 
will  be  arrested,  and  the  religious  character  will  be 
arrested  too.  The  childish  beliefs  will  keep  men 
childish ;  the  savage  beliefs  will  keep  them  savage  ; 


18 

the  inhuman  beliefs  will  keep  them  inhuman.  It  is 
not  creditable  to  the  progress  of  the  human  mind 
that  the  thoughts  of  the  old  Testament  men  should 
still  be  entertained ;  but  while  those  thoughts  are 
sanctified  and  sanctioned  by  association  with  the 
mind  of  the  very  Jehovah,  this  mishap  is  not 
avoidable.  If  the  story  of  Eden  had  not  been 
contained  in  the  bible,  its  childish  view  of  God 
would  have  been  discarded  by  all  but  children  long 
ere  this ;  but  being  written  in  the  bible,  and  thus 
authenticated  as  was  supposed  by  inspiration,  adult 
minds  feel  obliged  to  think  of  God  as  the  child 
thinks,  and  in  defiance  of  all  knowledge  and  reason, 
to  picture  Him  as  speaking  in  audible  whispers 
and  appearing  in  visible  shape.  Are  there  none 
who  accepting  Joshua's  thought  of  God  as  equiva- 
lent to  God's  thought  of  Joshua,  think  of  the  deity 
as  mtirderous  and  cruel,  and  justify  murderousness 
and  cruelty  in  the  name,  not  of  Joshua,  but  of  God, 
resisting  the  pleadings  of  their  hearts,  and  repress- 
ing their  sentiments  of  mercy  as  out  of  line  with 
the  habits  of  the  Eternal?  The  man  who  knows 
better  than  to  persecute  such  as  hold  different  be- 
liefs, and  feels  the  beauty  and  excellence,  of  tolera- 
tion, dare  not  show  charity  to  the  so  called  infidel, 
lest  he  show  himself  faithless  to  the  God  of  Samuel, 
and  displays  therefore  an  ugly  temper  to  his  heret- 


19 

ical  neighbor,  when,  if  it  could  te  revealed  to 
him  that  the  God  of  Samuel  was  merely  Samuel's 
narrow  and  intolerant  thought  of  God,  he  would 
honor  the  earnest  seeker,  respect  his  doubt,  and, 
instead  of  hewing  him  in  pieces,  restore  him  to  his 
place.  But  it  becomes  an  impiety  to  tolerate 
thoughts  that  God  is  suppose  to  hate,  when  to 
encourage  such  thoughts  simply  as  human  thoughts, 
products  of  hard  and  sincere  brain  work,  would  be 
piety. 

3.  For  God  demands  of  men,  in  their  opinion^  what 
their  best  thoughts  never  demand.  God,  or  what  is 
held  to  be  God,  is  imperious  and  exacting.  No  com- 
promise can  be  made  with  him.  "What  he  is  supposed 
to  require  must  be  given  without  hesitation.  If  he 
calls  for  the  offering  on  his  altar  of  mind  itself,  with 
all  its  contents  and  all  its  faculties,  with  all  its  earn- 
ings and  all  its  working  ability,  it  must  be  freely 
brought.  If  he  calls  for  the  offering  on  his  altar  of 
the  heart's  treasures,  of  sympathy,  charity,  kindness, 
— as  he  is  believed  to  have  done  of  Abraham,  who, 
identif3'ing  his  thought  of  God  with  God's  Being, 
lifted  the  sacrificial  knife  over  his  only  son, — if  he 
calls  for  the  offering  of  human  love,  these  must  not 
be  refused. 

Our  best  and  highest  natural  thoughts  make  no 
such  demand.     They  never  stultify  cripple  or  muti- 


20 

late  us  ;  they  expand  and  strengthen,  confirm  all 
nobleness,  enhance  all  loveliness  and  grace.  Whose 
highest  thought  of  beauty  or  truth  or  charity,  whose 
deepest  thought  of  responsibility,  duty,  human  or  di- 
vine affection,  the  order  of  society,  the  harmony  of 
men,  ever  suggested  to  him  the  necessity  of  contract- 
ing sympathy,  withholding  pity,  refusing  aid,  chilling 
expressions  of  tenderness  ?  Who,  in  his  moments  of 
sincere  worship  of  what  was  to  him  the  sweetest  and 
best,  ever,  on  leaving  his  secrecy  of  meditation,  felt 
impelled  to  reduce  the  dimensions  of  his  intellectual 
or  spiritual  being  ?  What  earnest  worshipper  ever 
came  out  of  this  secrecy  without  wishing  he  were  a 
thousand  times  greater  in  every  fine  human  quality? 
But  the  idea  of  God,  when  associated,  as  it  is  in 
the  multitude  of  instances,  with  narrow  and  mean  con- 
ceptions, arrests  the  thought,  drives  it  back  upon  the 
mind,  crowds  it  in  among  other  and  better  thoughts, 
expels  them,  and  occupies  their  place.  As  we  read  the 
history  of  human  opinion,  we  are  continually  coming 
across  tliis  dreary  fact.  We  learn  that  people  have 
mutilated  their  bodies  in  supposed  compliance  with  a 
divine  command,  which  was  nothing  else  than  a  vain 
imagination  of  their  own  consecrated  by  the  awful 
name  of  deity.  Others  have  mangled  their  intellects, 
lopping  off  their  curiosity,  starving  their  hunger  for 
certain  kinds  of  knowledge,  freezing  their  enthusiasm 


for  certain  literatures  or  arts,  shortening  the  range  of 
their  investigations  and  decrying  the  worth  of  their 
discoveries,  as  they  never  would  have  done  had  they 
been  free  to  alter  and  enlarge  their  thoughts  as  the 
growth  of  mini  required.  Are  there  no  educated, 
and  so  called  intellectual  people  now,  who  literally 
cannot  do  justice  to  opinions  and  views,  cannot  read 
the  books  that  convey  them,  cannot  listen  to  the 
teachers  that  communicate  them,  because  God,  as 
they  believe,  is  hostile  to  them  ?  Thus  their  finest 
aspiration  depresses  them  ;  they  are  the  smaller  for 
their  worship  ;  in  the  very  act  of  allegiance  to  what 
they  think  the  highest,  they  affront  their  actual 
highest.  The  arrested  idea  blocks  their  own  develop- 
ment. So  common  a  thing  is  this,  and  so  deplorable 
so  disastrous  a  thing,  that  some  very  noble  men  would 
abolish  if  they  could  the  belief  in  a  personal  God,  in 
the  hope  that  by  so  doing  they  could  remove  an  ob- 
stacle to  faith,  and  open  a  free  passage  to  the  search 
of  the  human  mind  afcer  truth  and  goodness.  It 
pains  them  to  see  fixed  types  of -thought,  clothed  with 
divine  authority  reacting  with  such  terrible  force 
upon  the  human  mind,  and  making  impossible  the 
advance  towards  worthier  conceptions.  Better  in 
their  judgment  no  belief  in  God  as  a  Being,  than 
a  belief  which  obstructs  the  progress  of  man.  Better 
no  belief  in  God  than  a  belief  that  does  not  animate. 


22 

encourage,    inspire.     The  atheism   that  allows   fine 
aspirations  towards  an  ever  greatening  glory  is  bettej 
than  a  trinitarianism  that  crushes  these  aspirations, 
and  confines  the  spirit   within  the  prison  of  older 
and  gloomier  views. 

4.  Another  thought  comes  up  in  this  connection, 
which  is  of  profound  significance  and  reach.  The 
ancient  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  woe  and  anguish 
of  the  world  with  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
Providence,  is  greatly  diminished  and  all  but  dis- 
appears when  we  cease  to  identify  our  thoughts  about 
Providence  with  Providence  itself,  and  to  make  deity 
responsible  for  what  is  due  simply  to  the  limitations 
of  our  own  minds.  The  consideration  that  our 
thoughts  are  simply  our  thoughts,  that  our  blindness 
is  not  God's  light,  that  our  perplexities  are  not  God's 
intentions,  that  our  doubts  spring,  not  from  any 
absolute  ground  in  the  problem  itself,  but  merely 
from  the  detects  of  our  understandings,  removes 
at  once  the  weight  of  a  crushing  misgiving.  Mr. 
Mill's  argument,  which  was  touched  on  last  Sunday, 
owes  its  force  to  the  assumption  that  a  personal  Beitic/, 
such  as  we  can  picture  in  our  imagination,  is  directly 
responsible  for  the  suffering,  sorrow,  loss,  ruin  and 
guilt  that  blacken  and  curse  mankind.  Take  away 
that  assumption,  admit  frankly  that  there  is  no  per- 
sonal Being  corresponding  to  our  thoughts;  that  the 


23 

Being  who  projected  the  universe  into  existence,  and 
is  law  and  guidance  and  support  to  it.  is  a  Being  of 
whom  we  have  but  the  most  sliadowy  outline,  of 
whose  attributes  we  have  no  fair  ^conception  wliat- 
ever, — and  however  mysterious  the  universe  may  be, 
however  insoluble,  at  present,  its  problem,  we  are 
no  longer  concerned  to  reconcile  the  ugly  facts  that 
we  see  with  Almighty  power,  wisdom  or  love. 

The  agony  that  good  hearts  experience  at  sight 
of  the  misery  of  the  world  is  owing  to  the  contrast 
between  ivhat  they  see  and  what  they  feel — not  be- 
tween things  as  they  are,  and  an  iniinite  goodness  : 
for  they  do  not  see  things  as. they  are,  and  of  an  in- 
finite goodness  they  have  not  the  faintest  compre- 
hension. Whether  there  be  a  contrast  between 
things  as  they  really  are  and  a  perfect  Being,  is  not, 
and  cannot  be  a  question  for  any  mortal.  Thousands 
and  thousands  of  people,  most  people  in  fact,  all 
save  the  very  few,  are  never  disturbed  by  the  ques- 
tions that  exercise  the  noble  soul,  for  their  souls  are 
not  noble.  There  is  no  contrast  between  what  they 
see  and  what  they  feel,  for  they  have  no  eyes  for  the 
ugly  phenomena  of  existence  on  the  one  hand,  and 
they  have  no  feelings  for  justice,  kindness  or  pity  on 
the  other.  They  are  neither  observant  nor  sensitive; 
doubt  never  crosses  their  mind ;  the  matters  dis- 
cussed so  eagerly  by  divines  and  philosophers  are 
nothing  to  them. 


24 

The  suffering  and  sorrowful  and  woe-begone  do 
not  as  a  rule,  raise  these  fearful  questions,  because  no 
gulf  is  opened  between  their  experience  of  evil  and 
their  thougJit  of  good.  Misgivings  concerning  the 
governance  of  the  world  arise  in  sensitive,  inquisi- 
tive, generous  minds,  whose  idea  of  the  world  as 
it  ought  to  be  is  daily  confronted  with  the  actual 
facts  of  the  world  as  they'see  them.  The  world  is 
not  as  they  would  have  it.  They  dream  of  Eden 
and,  opening  their  eyes,  behold  Gethsemane.  But 
there  is  no  agony  in  Gethsemane  to  those  who  have 
no  dream  of  Eden. 

From  this  contrast,  painful  and  pathetic  as  it  is, 
no  speculative  atheism,  no  morbid  unbelief  usually 
grows.  It  is  only  when  the  dream  of  Eden  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a  revelation  of  God,  that  the  staggering, 
stupefying  doubt  is  awakened.  Dispel  the  dream- 
er's fancy,  detach  his  thought  from  the  eternal,  and 
instantly  the  domain  of  the  infinite  kindness  is  open 
to  faith  again,  and  the  tortured  soul  is  at  rest  on  the 
Father's  bosom.  Hope  and  trust  are  restored  to  their 
rights,  and  the  assurance  is  recovered  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  lost.  The  questions  are  not  answered ;  they, 
have  simply  ceased  to  be  questions ;  and  the  business 
in  hand  is  not  to  wonder  why  God  allows  the  world  to 
be  as  it  is,  but  to  do  what  we  can  to  make  the  world 
more  nearly   what   we  think   it   ought   to  be.     A 


25 

wholesome  duly  is  thus  substituted  for  an  unwhole- 
some speculation,  and  instead  of-  torturing  ourselves 
into  uselessness  by  doubts,  we  straighten  ourselves 
into  rectitude  by  action. 

Nor  let  any  lightly  consider  this  matter  as  of 
small  moment.  It  is  indeed  of  the  deepest  moment. 
When  we  take  into  account  the  dissipation  of  the 
noblest  spirits  on  these  insoluble  problems,  spirits 
whose  energy  the  world  of  society  most  needs,  it 
com  es  home  to  us  with  solemn  force  that  the  matters 
here  dealt  with  are  of  living  and  instant  concern. 
For,  at  present,  the  best  thoughts  of  the  best  men 
are  made  instruments  of  torture  to  the  faith  they 
should  heal  and  uplift.  Men  seem  to  be  the  weaker 
for  their  confidences,  the  poorer  for  their  treasures, 
the  sadder  for  their  worships.  They  spread  their 
wings  to  penetrate  a  bleak  region  of  despair.  They 
are  crushed  beneath  their  aspirations.  To  put  men 
in  full  possession  of  their  best  thoughts,  and  give 
them  encouragement  to  make  their  best  thoughts  bet- 
ter, should  be  the  aim  of  all  true  well-wishers  of 
their  kind.  To  keep  the  conception  of  God  pure 
and  exalted  is  of  prime  importance ;  and  to  do  that  we 
must  disencumber  his  image  of  the  rubbish  which 
our  own  minds  heap  upon  it. 

It  will  be  urged,  in  reply  to  all  that  has  been 
said,  that  mere  thoughts,  even  the  best  thoughts, 


26 

stand  for  little,  as  practical  powers ;  that  men  in 
general  are  not  influenced  or  moved  by  thern ;  that 
men  need  not  thoughts  but  realities.  Yes:  but  what 
if  thoughts  are  all  we  have,  or  can  have !  What 
if  realities  are  beyond  our  reach,  except  as  thoughts 
are  themselves  realities !  What  if  the  most  ardent 
believer  has  nothing  but  thoughts  !  We  must  accept 
things  as  they  are  and  not  complain  because  we  can- 
not make  fictions  stand  for  facts. 

Thoughts,  it  may  he  granted  must  have  a  back- 
ground, something  behind  them,  the  support  and 
authority  of  Being.  Is  it  justifiable  then  to  put  in 
a  false  background,  to  set  up  a  fictitious  something, 
to  fabricate  a  Being  for  the  purpose  ?  A  background 
indeed  there  is,  a  background  of  Being  too,  and  so 
much  more  vast  than  is  vulgarly  apprehended,  that 
there  need  be  no  fear  of  its  giving  way  under  our 
pressure ;  a  background  of  solid  reality  that  brings  the 
whole  weight  of  omnipotence  to  sustain  our  thought 
in  as  far  as  it  is  worthy.  In  proportion  as  a  human 
thought  is  true  it  lays  hold  on  this  reaUty  and  has 
the  pledge  of  its  alliance.  As  the  thought  gains  in 
truth,  the  hold  becomes  firm,  and  the  pledge  authori- 
tative. The  truer  the  thought  the  deeper  the 
earnestness  it  commands.  Ideals  are  inspirations. 
The  low  ideal  leaves  the  moral  nature  unstirred ; 
the  false  ideal  distorts  the  moral  nature,  and  perverts 


27 

its  action ;   the  ideal  that  is  at  once  lofty  and  true, 
purifies  and  exalts  the  man. 

"  Glorious  ideal,"  cries  an  earnest  thinker,  "  light 
of  minds,  lamp  of  hearts,  art  thou  not  the  God 
whom  I  seek  ?  Long  have  I  looked  for  him,  this 
God  whom  I  thought  hidden ;  on  the  faith  of  holy 
books,  I  searched  for  him  in  imagination  and 
conscience ;  I  thought  to  find  him  in  Nature  and  in 
Humanity  ;  everywhere  I  have  found  idols.  Hence- 
forth my  reason  shall  see  in  them  only  poetic  fictions. 
Thou  alone  art  divine  :  for  before  thy  face  all  beauty 
is  dim,  virtue  bends  its  head,  power  is  humbled.  The 
universe  is  great ;  thou  alone  art  holy.  For  the 
Infinite  Being  wonder  and  fear  ;  for  thee  alone  love, 
thou  God  of  Beauty  and  Truth  !  We  will  leave 
thee  in  thy  heaven  with  the  pure  aureole  of  thought. 
To  attempt  to  realize  thee  is  to  make  thee  an  idol,  a 
vain  thing,  an  idol  for.  the  imagination,  a  thing  of 
abstractions,  taken  out  of  all  related  conditions.  God 
of  my  reason  !  Long  has  the  faith  of  mankind  pur- 
sued thee,  held  thee,  contemplated  and  adored  thee 
in  idols  and  abstractions  !  But  the  day  at  last  has 
come  to  see  thee  as  thou  art  in  the  glory  of  thy 
essence,  and  to  worship  thee,  as  the  apostle  says,  in 
spirit  and  in  truth." 


THE  LIVING  GOD. 


The  believers  and  professed  believers  of  our  time 
are  greatly  exercised  with  questions,  touching  the 
being  and  the  existence  of  God,  are  asking  earnestly, 
at  all  events  importunately,  Avhether  there  be  a  God, 
and  if  there  be,  how  he  may  be  discovered  and  known. 
Minds  are  singularly  nimble  about  this  problem. 
The  agility  with  which  people  prance  and  caracole 
in  the  purlieus  of  the  subject  excites  amazement. 
Such  acquaintance  with  the  main  lines  of  distinction  ! 
Such  familiarity  with  the  terms  of  definition  !  Such 
skill  in  dividing  the  hairs  of  argument  !  Such 
astuteness  in  detecting  the  traces  of  heresy,  and  ex- 
posing the  point  at  which  orthodoxy  parts  from  in- 
fidelity, and  belief  shades  off  into  unbelief  !  Never, 
it  would  seem,  was  there  so  much  interest  in  knowing 
what  constitutes  the  saving  faith  in  deity.  It  is  an 
age  of  criticism,  when  the  utmost  adroitness  in   de- 


tecting  the  weak  places  in  a  neighbor's  creed  is 
accompanied  by  the  utmost  complacency  in  laying 
down  the  exact  terms  of  one's  own.  If  it  were 
only  matter  for  definition,  how  neatly  all  things 
would  be  arranged  !  If  talking  and  speculating 
would  only  meet  the  exigency  !  If  God  were  only  a 
theological  phrase,  a  dictionary  word,  a  form  of 
speech,  the  debate  could  go  on  smoothly  enough. 
Every  man  might  be  a  heretic  in  the  eyes  of  his 
neighbor,  the  consignments  to  theoretical  perdition 
might  be  large  and  frequent,  and  nobody  could  by 
any  possibility  be  hurt. 

But  there  is  a  lingering  feeling  that  the  power  to 
which  is  given  the  name  God  is  something  more 
than  a  theological  term,  and  that  no  amount  of  chaf- 
fering will  satisfy  its  claim  on  the  mind.  The  word 
"  Atheism "  conveying  the  notion  that  there  is  no 
God  at  all,  has  an  ominous  and  dismal  sound.  Few 
are  willing  to  frankly  avow  themselves  atheists.  In 
some  sense  the  most  skeptical  will  have  it  appear 
that  they  are  believers,  amid  the  last  refinements  of 
meaning  holding  fast  to  a  germ  of  credence.  The 
multitude  resent  with  horror  the  imputation  of  un- 
belief in  this  supreme  article,  and  regard  with  some- 
thing like  detestation  those  who  rest  under  the  sus- 
picion of  it.  To  be  an  atheist  is  regarded  as 
equivalent  to  being  selfish,    sordid,   sensual,   men- 


dacious,  unscrupulous,  and  cruel,  in  short  as  being 
in  every  just  sense  of  the  word  inhuman.  But  why ! 
If  we  are  concerned  with  mere  definitions,  if  specula- 
tive theories  of  the  universe  alone  are  in  question,  if 
it  is  simply  an  affair  for  philosophy  to  settle,  it  is 
surely  unnecessary  to  be  so  much  disturbed. 
Pantheism,  atheism,  deism,  theism,  bitheism,  and 
tritheism,  so  long  as  each  may  have  something  to  say 
for  itself,  why  not  be  willing  to  listen  to  the  plea  and 
decide  coolly  according  to  the  evidence  ?  Why  not 
follow  the  determinations  of  the  argument,  and 
repose  calmly  in  the  peace  of  whichever  theory  best 
commends  itself  to  the  understanding  ?  Why  should 
one  theory  of  the  universe  be  presumed  to  implicate 
character  more  than  another  ? 

_J  The  true,  deep  reason,  I  apprehend,  for  the  com- 
mon abhorrence  of  atheism  is  to  be  found  in  the  per- 
suasion that  God,  or  the  power  described  by  that 
word,  is  something  more  than  a  theological  term. 
The  real  question  is,  whether  or  not  this  supreme 
power — define  it  and  speculate  about  it  as  we  will — 
think  of  it  and  reason  about  it  as  we  may,  is  or  is  not 
LIVING, — a  real  power^  of  intelligence  and  will,  or 
nothing  at  all  but  a  fiction  of  our  minds.  There  is  a 
lurking  conviction  that  the  atheist  is  one  who,  what- 
ever he  may  say,  has  no  belief  in  living  deity ;  that 
he  does  not  stand  with  bended  or  uncovered  head  in 


presence  of  something  that  in  grandeur,  beauty, 
nobleness,  sacredness,  loveliness,  altogether  tran- 
scends himself  in  kind  as  well  as  in  degree  ;  that  he 
neither  trembles  nor  exults  in  presence  of  eternal 
verities  ;  that  aspiration,  worship,  trust,  submission, 
longing,  hope  are  foreign  to  him  whether  as  practices 
or  emotions  ;  that  he  is  self-centred  and  self-circum- 
ferenced,  determined  and  bounded  by  his  own  indi- 
viduality ;  that  he  swings  about  in  his  own  narrow 
orbit,  wholly  unimpressed  and  unswayed  by  the 
glorious  orbs  about  him,  and  spins  on  his  own  pivot, 
too  much  absorbed  in  his  private  affairs  to  heed 
what  goes  on  beneath  him  or  above.  Without  humil- 
iation or  misgivings,  without  dissatisfaction  or  dis- 
trust, thinking  only  of  himself,  his  own  importance, 
happiness,  comfort,  he  seems  not  to  be  aware  that 
aught  above  claims  his  reverence,  that  aught  around 
claims  his  devotion,  that  aught  below  claims  his  fear ; 
a  solitary,  kindless,  aweless,  soulless  being,  who 
whirls  away  in  the  dark,  himself  darkening  continu- 
ally with  that  inner  darkness  which  is  darkness 
itself. 

If  atheism  imports  this,  it  is  no  wonder  that  men 
abhor  the  name  of  it  and  employ  their  utmost  inge- 
nuity in  escaping  from  its  breath. 

But  how  wild  and  whimsical  their  methods  of 
escape !     The  efforts  to   find   the  living   God,  how 


misguided  and  ineffectual  I  There  are  those,  for  ex- 
ample, who  search  the  records  of  the  j)ast  for  evidence 
that  God  was  alive  at  some  remote  period,  and 
among  some  ancient  people.  Palestine,  they  say, 
was  the  scene  of  the  divine  manifestations.  There 
the  Deity  yisibly  appeared,  walked  among  men, 
wrought  wondrous  and  amazing  miracles,  audibly 
spoke  in  words  of  teaching,  warning,  rebuke,  prom- 
ise ;  there  the  heayens  opened  and  answered  the 
earth ;  mountains  trembled  and  blazed  ;  hill  tops 
glowed  with  angelic  forms ;  sandy  places  blossomed ; 
lilies  and  wayes  were  pulpits  ;  the  lake  surface  re- 
flected more  than  the  yisible  skies  ;  grayes  gaye  up 
their  dead ;  the  yery  winds  carried  whispers  of 
heaven,  as  they  swept  over  the  face  of  the  common 
earth.  But  to  yerify  this,  eyen  as  history,  is  exceed- 
ingly difficult ;  and  eyen  if  the  difficulties  could  be 
overcome,  the  result  is  only  a  tradition,  a  report,  a  lit- 
erary record,  a  probability  that  there  may  have  been 
a  revelation,  a  reflection  in  worldly  texts  of  Deity ; 
no  living  God,  but  merely  a  reminiscence  of  one. 

We  go  to  the  sacred  spot,  but  no  footprints  are 
visible;  the  earth  is  common  earth;  the  lake  of 
Gennesareth  does  not  compare  in  heayenliness  of 
beauty  with  Lake  George ;  tlie  flowers  and  fruits  on 
its  borders  are  over-matched  l)y  those  of  our  own  or- 
chards and  gardens  ;  the  mountains  are  of  the  same  ma- 


terial  as  the  Berkshire  hills ;  the  air  is  no  sweeter  on 
their  sides ;  the  view  is  no  more  transporting  from 
their  summits.  The  people  who  live  there  are  not  con- 
cious  of  dwelling  on  sacred  soil ;  their  wretchedness 
and  ignorance  rather  betray  an  absence  of  suspicion 
that  their  environment  is  especially  privileged.  Of 
the  people  who  lived  at  the  period  of  the  supposed 
divine  manifestation,  the  large  majority  were  no  more 
alive  than  their  successors  are,  to  the  fact  of  the 
Deity's  revival,  and  were  looking  back  disconsolate 
to  some  period,  to  them  remote,  when  the  silence 
was  indeed  broken,  and  the  blackness  lighted  up, 
and  the  deathliness  stirred  by  the  manifest  God. 

But  were  all  this  otherwise,  were  the  evidence  of 
the  celestial  theophanies  or  apparitions  irresistible, 
were  the  footprints  of  the  God  distinctly  traceable 
even  yet  from  end  to  end  of  the  Holy  Land ;  were 
there  all  imaginable  reasons  for  believing  that  the 
Hebrews  of  the  time  of  Moses,  and  the  Jews  of  the 
time  of  Jesus,  Wicre,  every  man  woman  and  child  of 
them,  dumb  with  amazement  or  wild  with  joy  at  the 
familiar  visitation  of  Deity ;  were  the  present  inhab- 
itants of  Palestine  proudly  and  humbly  sensible  of 
the  honor  vouchsafed  to  them  through  their  ancestors ; 
still  all  we  have  would  be  the  assurance  that  God 
lived  once,  not  that  He  is  alive  now,  and  the  practical 
value   of   such   an   assurance    cannot   be   estimated 


9 

highly.  For  what  is  it  after  all,  but  an  admission 
that  God  is  not  alive  at  present,  that  at  present  he  is 
about  the  same  as  dead  ?  For  a  God  who  appeared  and 
then  disappeared,  is  more  hopelessly  absent  than  a 
God  who  never  appeared.  A  God  who  never  appear- 
ed may  be  expected ;  faith,  and  love,  and  hope,  being 
careless  time-keepers,  can  wait  long  for  the  dis- 
closure they  have  what  to  them  are  good  reasons  for 
anticipating ;  but  if  the  Deity  has  been  and  gone., 
the  watchlights  may  as  well  be  put  out,  and  all  the 
virgins  may  be  dismissed  to  their  morning  slumber. 
A  living  God  is  a  God  who  lives  here  and  now,  not 
a  God  who  lived  there  and  then,  and  the  more  con- 
clusive the  evidence  that  He  lived  there  and  then, 
the  fainter  the  hope  that  He  will  live  here  and  now. 
For  the  same  reason  it  is  idle  to  seek  to  recover 
faith  in  a  living  God,  by  imagining  a  time  when  he 
will  manifest  himself.  A  deity  who  is  to  become  visible 
and  audible,  one  of  these  days,  in  the  hereafter,  when 
our  human  life  is  ended,  and  our  human  concerns 
have  ceased,  visible  in  his  heavens,  audible  in  his 
judgments, — certainly  can  by  no  stretch  of  language 
be  called  a  living  deity.  A  God  who  comes  to  life,  so 
far  as  we  are  concerned  at  the  termination  of  a  cer- 
tain number  of  years !  A  God  who  becomes  mani- 
fest wlien  our  present  sensibility  to  impressions  is  de- 
stroyed, and  our  very  thoughts  have  perished !     It 


10 

will  be  enough  to  speak  of  such  a  living  God  when 
we  have  come  to  where  he  is,  when  we  have  ceased 
to  be  what  we  are,  and  have  taken  on  the  new  senses 
that  are  to  make  us  cognizant  of  things  belonging  to 
an  entirely  different  sphere; — but  for  men  on  the 
earth  to  call  this  a  living  God  would  be  an  unpardon- 
able misuse  of  terms.  A  God  wholivedonce,  orwho 
is  to  live  by  and  by,  is  an  absence,  not  a  presence. 

The  Revivalists  perceive  the  difficulty  and  meet 
it  by  importing  a  Deity  for  the  hour.  They  profess 
to  have  means  by  which  they  can  secure  his  presence 
and  have  him,  for  the  time  being,  within  call.  As 
the  medium  hunters  assemble  in  their  chamber  and 
sing  vociferously  to  tempt  the  spirits  who  have  no 
taste  for  the  music  of  silence ; — so  the  believers  in  a 
moveable  divinity  think  that  if  they  combine  and  con- 
spire, pray  with  sufficient  fervor,  sing  with  sufficient 
pathos,  exhort  with  sufficient  fluency,  they  can  induce 
the  Deity  to  "  bow  down  his  ear,"  to  "  pour  out  his 
spirit,"  to  "  vouchsafe  His  blessing,"  to  "  visit  and 
refresh  and  comfort  His  people."  The  place  is  ap- 
pointed ;  the  hour  is  fixed ;  the  precise  moment  is 
announced ;  an  ordinary  time- piece  tells  off  the  in- 
stants of  grace ;  how  long  the  Lord  will  stay  is  doubt- 
ful ;  "  seek  ye  Him  therefore,  while  He  is  to  be  found ; 
call  ye  upon  Him  while  He  is  near."  The  brief  sea- 
son passed,  it  may  be  too  late ;  the  church  door  closed 


11 

knocking  may  be  in  vain.  But  again  the  doubt 
arises,  if  we  have  yet  a  living  God, — a  God  of  moods 
and  caprices,  yes, — a  God  uncertain,  eccentric,  spas- 
modical ;  but  a  living  God  ?  No :  should  we  call  him 
a  live  man  who  had  to  be  importuned  before  he 
would  show  himself;  whose  periods  of  activity  were 
intermittent ;  who  now  and  then  dashed  into  affairs 
with  great  noise  and  commotion,  and  vanished  as 
suddenly  as  he  came — leaving  people  to  clear  up  the 
ground  after  him  as  they  could  ?  A  live  man  is  one 
who  runs  his  activities  and  his  hours  together,  who 
puts  his  energy  into  successive  deeds,  knitting  day 
to  day  and  year  to  year  by  his  purposes,  and  charg- 
ing with  his  own  vitality  the  incidents  that  await 
him  in  his  career ;  the  man  who  makes  himself  felt 
in  all  the  relations  of  home,  business,  politics,  or 
whatever  else  may  engage  him.  Neither  history  nor 
prophecy  gives  us  the  live  man ;  experience  gives 
him  to  us  always.  An  eminent  writer,  once  a  Ration- 
alist, afterwards  a  Romanist,  in  a  book  written  after 
his  conversion  and  to  explain  the  process  of  it,  de- 
scribes enthusiastically  his  emotions  on  discovering 
that  God  was  free,  free  to  come  or  go,  to  speak  or  be 
silent,  to  run  in  the  grooves  of  law  or  to  depart  from 
them ;  free  to  bestow  His  spirit  on  whom  He  would. 
How  little  the  man  could  have  understood  what  a 
Living  God  was !     What  a  poor  conception   of  free- 


12 

dom !  Had  he  tarried  in  the  faith  he  abandoned  long 
enough  to  understand  it,  he  would  have  escaped  a 
confession  that  does  so  little  credit  to  his  rational 
powers. 

The  Living  God :  how  shall  we  describe  such  a 
being?  Him  we  may  not  seek  to  describe;  for  by 
the  nature  of  the  case  He  is  indescribable  ;  but  the 
evidence  of  his  being  alive  may  at  least  be  indicated. 
The  most  luminous  suggestions  of  the  Living  God 
are  given  by  the  scientific  men  who  tell  us  of  the 
processes  of  nature  in  the  material  world.  The  as- 
tronomers who  unroll  before  us  the  chart  of  the 
heavens ;  the  geologists  who  decipher  the  rec- 
ords of  our  own  planet;  the  naturalists  who  ex- 
plain the  construction  of  plants  and  animals ;  the 
anatomists  and  physiologists  who  take  to  pieces  the 
frame  of  man  and  show  how  fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully it  is  made.  The  conviction  is  forced  on  us  as 
we  listen  to  these  men,  that  the  Superior  Power, 
the  creative  mind,  the  shaping  originating  will,  what- 
ever it  be,  is  as  active  to-day,  in  all  ways  as  active 
as  it  ever  was  since  time  began ;  that  there  has  been 
no  moment  of  suspended  animation;  that  the  same 
things  are  produced,  by  the  same  agencies,  through 
the  same  methods,  in  the  same  order,  under  the  same 
conditions,  and  apparently  on  the  same  plan.  The 
properties  of  the  material  world,  the  properties  of 


i;3 

wood,  iron,  rock,  wati-r,  arc  in  all  rt's^x'cts  the  same 
that  they  ever  have  Ix-en.  Lii^lit  and  air  eonl'onn  to 
precisely  the  same  laws;  sunrise  and  suns(;t,  rain-fall 
and  droup^ht  observe  the  reL^nlatiinis  made  at  the  start. 
The  creative  forces  are  still  busy,  not  slumbering  for 
an  instant,  absorbinoiy  and  eiigrossinoly  l)usy  ;  a  thou- 
sand times  busier  tlu'v  seem  to  us  than  they  could 
liave  seemed  to  the  men  of  Palestine;  more  active 
in  their  daily  operations  than  once  they  seemed  to  be 
in  their  special  and  exceptional  working ;  changing 
water  into  wine  and  (}uickening  death  into  life  after 
a  manner  never  suspected  in  .Tud;ca.  With  us  it  is 
no  matter  for  conjecture,  but  actual  knowledge, 
brought  home  to  us  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  accej^ted 
by  all  Avho  have  bestowed  thought  on  the  subject, 
that  the  God  of  nature  has  never  been  more  alive 
than  he  is  at  this  moment ;  that  creation  is  success- 
ive, not  single ;  a  process,  not  an  act ;  the  work  of 
immeasurable  ages  closely  welded  together,  not  of  a 
week  or  an  interval  ;  that  it  is  everlasting  and  con- 
tinuous ;  as  constant,  as  subtle,  as  vast,  as  perma- 
nent as  it  was  in  the  imaginary  week  of  Genesis. 
The  universe  is  conceded  by  earnest,  believing,  re- 
ligious men,  not  materialists  or  skeptics,  to  be  not  so 
much  a  complicated  machine,  which  once  made  need 
not  even  be  superintended,  as  a  living  abode  and  ever 
present  manifestation  of  whatever  being,  spirit, 
power  it  is  that  men  call  by  the  name  of  deity. 


14 

So  far,  then,  the  conception  of  a  living  God  is 
given  ;  and  how  vivid  that  conception  becomes,  how 
glowing  and  beautiful,  how  deep  and  vast,  when 
some  illumined  mind  interprets  to  us  meanings  not 
revealed  to  the  outward  eye !  When  some  poet  like 
Tennyson  or  Browning,  some  artist  like  Turner  or 
Millet,  or  men  nearer  home,  bring  out  wonders  of 
beauty,  intelligence,  truth,  from  the  blank  as- 
pects of  material  things ;  open  to  us  chambers  of 
imagery  whereof  we  had  not  dreamed;  disclose 
reaches  of  possibility  that  seem  simply  inexhaustible, 
and  make  us  feel  how  near  to  the  awakened  mind,  is 
the  never  slumbering  mind ! 

So  far,  then,  the  conception  of  a  Living  God,  is 
made  definite.  No  hint,  it  may  be,  is  thrown  out  in 
regard  to  the  nature  of  infinite  being ;  we  are  as  far 
perhaps  as  ever  from  a  knowledge  of  what  God  may 
be  in  himself ;  nay,  the  mystery  of  that  may  possibly 
be  deepened  ;  still  that  whatever  Power  there  is,  is^ 
alive,  in  every  atom  of  space,  in  every  instant  of/ 
time,  is  put  beyond  controversy.        ^ _.^ — <::^=^ 

But  nature,  as  commonly  understood,  gives  us 
only  the  ruder  forms  of  this  activity.  The  living 
God  is  disclosed  in  the  activities  of  the  human  mind 
more  impressively  than  in  any  material  operation. 
It  does  not  become  us  to  be  overawed  by  distance 
and  bulk.     An  ounce  of  mind  outweighs   a  million 


15 

tons  of  matter.  The  leap  of  an  affection  distances 
the  spring  of  lightning.  The  thought  of  a  Newton 
goes  out  beyond  the  confines  of  the  universe ;  the 
•love  of  a  F^ndlon  gives  music  to  the  morning  stars  ; 
the  winds  of  intelligence  that  come  we  know  not 
whence,  and  go  we  know  not  whither,  but  which  are 
always  blowing  where  human  minds  are  alert ;  the 
waves  of  feeling  that  rise  and  swell  and  advance  and 
make  the  ocean  of  existence  sparkle  with  foam,  are 
better  evidence  of  a  living  spirit  abroad  than  the 
stars  that  gem  the  night  heavens,  or  the  laws  that 
speed  light  from  orb  to  orb. 
■Nj  The  living  God  is  manifest  in  much  higher  form 
in  mind  than  in  matter.  The  activity  of  conscience 
is  more  exalted  than  the  activity  of  mechanical  force. 
It  is  only  of  man  that  we  predicate  inspiration. 
Stones  and  trees  are  not  inspired.  Genius  cannot  be 
ascribed  to  muscle  or  nerve.  The  higher  the  style 
of  human  energy  the  higher  the  exhibition  of  divine 
energy.  To  the  divine  there  is,  literally,  no  limit. 
No  man  has  ever  exhausted  the  infinite.  On  the 
contrary,  iu  proportion  to  the  power  of  the  draught 
is  the  depth  of  the  well.  If  the  living  God  is  seen  in 
the  vast,  mj'sterious  forces  that  bear  generations  and 
nations  of  men  along  over  reaches  of  experience  that 
of  their  own  wit  and  wDl,  they  could  not  see  their 
way  over, — as  was   the  case   in  our  late  civil   war. 


16 

when  whole  States  were  carried  on  as  it  were  in 
spite  of  themselves  towards  issues  they  not  only  did 
not  desire,  but  could  not  foresee, — much  more  clearly^ 
is  it  seen  in  the  astonishing  power  exerted  by  single 
persons  who,  striking  the  current  of  some  great  prin- 
ciple, are  swept  on  as  with  the  wings  of  a  heavenly 
host,  full  of  confidence,  and  charged  with  irresistible 
strength  of  persuasion  and  conviction.  A  celebrated 
aeronaut  believes  that  whenever  he  shall  reach  a  cer- 
tain altitude  he  will  strike  a  steadily-moving  current 
of  air  that  will  carry  him  smoothly  and  steadily 
round  the  globe.  It  is  no  conjecture  that  when  a  J 
man  reaches  a  certain  moral  altitude  he  strikes  a  cur- 
rent of  moral  power  to  whose  expansion  and  swift- 
ness there  is  no  limit.  Hear  men  speak  of  the  living 
God  who  have  with  unfaltering  trust  and  unswerving 
courage  committed  themselves  to  a  humane  principle. 
These  are  the  witnesses  it  is  idlq  to  gainsay  ; 
they  are  of  all  times,  and  numerous  enough  to  put 
forever  to  flight  the  prejudice  that  God  favors  special 
ages  and  peculiar  tribes.  Our  own  seer  declares: 
"  There  is  a  soul  in  the  centre  of  nature  and  over  the 
will  of  every  man,  so  that  none  of  us  can  wrong  the 
universe.  It  has  so  infused  its  strong  enchantment 
into  nature,  that  we  prosper  when  we  accept  its  ad- 
vice, and  when  we  struggle  to  wound  its  creatures, 
our  hands  are  glued  to  our  sides,  or  they  beat  our 


17 

own  breasts.  Tlic  whole  course  of  tilings  ^•oes  to 
teaeli  us  failh.  ^^'e  need  only  obey.  There  is  guid- 
ance for  each  of  us,  and  l»y  truly  listeuini;'  we  sliall 
hear  the  riuht  word.  Place  yourself  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream  of  power  and  wisdom  which  animates 
all  whom  it  lloats,  and  you  are  without  effort  impel- 
led to  truth,  to  ri^'ht  and  a  perfect  contentment/' 

This  is  the  langaiage  of  the  highest  and  serenest 
faith.  I  quote  it  that  you  may  know  how  the  purest 
speak  on  this  great  theme.  More  modest  speech  be- 
comes us.  The  truth  I  am  insisting  on,  can  be  made 
apparent  to  unspiritual  minds.  Where  shall  we 
seek  then  for  the  working  of  the  living  God  in  our 
own  city  and  our  own  year?  Do  we  discern  it  in  the 
stir  that  precedes  the  effort  to  produce  a  grand  re- 
vival of  religion  ?  Is  it  evidenced  by  crowded  rinks 
and  hippodromes,  hymns  sung  by  ten  thousand  voices, 
a  multitudinous  out-pouring  of  prayer  at  morning 
noon  and  night  from  churches  and  chapels  innumer- 
able ;  in  exhortations  that  make  assemblies  tremble, 
in  the  ecstatic  shouts  of  congregations  assured  of 
their  salvation,  in  the  moans  of  anxious  sinners  griev- 
ing lest  they  be  lost,  in  the  thronging  towards  places 
where  the  Bible  is  read,  and  petitions  are  sent  up  that 
the  powers  of  the  world  may  be  converted  to  Christ? 
I  should  look  for  it  rather  where  men  are  struggling 
in  faith  to  unmask  some   gigantic  iniquity,  like  the 


18 

frauds  of  the  Indian  ring,  or  to  throw  oif  some  enor- 
mous corruption,  Hke  that  which  has  obtained  pos- 
session of  the  canals.  I  should  cast  about  to  see  where 
effort  was  making  to  enthrone  honest  men  in  office  in 
place  of  knaves,  to  restore  confidence  to  trade,  to  estab- 
lish true  instead  of  false  values  for  money  and  the  com- 
modities that  money  buys ;  I  should  sharpen  my 
vision  to  discover  the  people  who,  by  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  life,  were  making  head  against  aif ectation, 
hypocrisy,  and  emptiness.  Here  we  may  be  sure  of 
finding  the  footprints  of  the  living  God,  here,  and 
surely  not  elsewhere.  Is  it  said  that  all  such  seeking 
will  be  vain  ?  that  the  men  who  seem  to  be  bent  on  un- 
masking iniquity  are  themselves  iniquitous  ?  that  the 
"  honest  men  "  are  knaves  in  disguise  ?  that  the  re- 
formers themselves  chiefly  need  reforming?  that  the 
champions  of  honest  government  are  simply  schem- 
ing to  put  themselves  into  places  of  emolument  and 
power?  that,  in  a  word,  it  is  all  illusion,  this  idea 
that  the  living  God  manifests  Himself  in  any  such 
vulgar  utilitarian  manner  ?  still,  I  should  say  "  such 
ways  as  these  or  none."  Thus,  or  not  at  all,  the 
divine  energy  is  displayed.  If  these  men  are  not 
honest,  perhaps  others  are  ;  we  will  look  for  them  till 
we  find  them ;  if  we  cannot  find  them  we  shall 
believe  that  they  are  simply  out  of  our  sight,  not 
out  of  being.     For  it  is  plainly  incredible  that  the 


19 

human  world  should  be  absolutely  deserted  by  honesty. 
A  certain  amount  of  honorable  purpose  is  necessary 
to  the  sanity  of  mankind.  It  is  the  salt  that  pre- 
serves things  fi*om  putrefaction.  If  it  does  not  exist 
in  one  place  it  does  in  another.  If  it  is  not  found  in 
conspicuous  people  it  must  be  sought  among  the 
inconspicuous.  But  wherever  it  is,  there  is  the 
power  of  regeneration;  there  is  the  living  God. 
Yes,  though  it  be  found  with  people  who  acknowl- 
edge no  God,  who  never  worship,  who  make  no  con- 
fession, its  presence  indicates  the  divine  presence. 
For  whoever  strikes  the  divine  current  shares  the 
divine  life,  and  brings  the  divine  revelation.  Creeds 
are  of  no  moment  here.  Definitions  have  no  signif- 
icance. The  avowed  Atheist  who  accepts  the  con- 
ditions, observes  the  laws,  penetrates  beneath  the 
surface  to  the  forces  that  control  incidents ;  the 
materialist  who  conforms  to  the  principles  of  mat- 
ter, receives  a  demonstration  of  the  living  God  such 
as  is  withheld  entirely  from  the  disobedient  or  heed- 
less theist.  The  live  man  discovers  the  live  God ;  ^ 
and  the  wealth  of  the  discovery  is  according  to  the 
grade  of  the  life. 

It  has  been  often  observed  that  a  fresh  conviction 
of  the  presence  and  power  of  the  Living  God  is  felt 
in  times  of  social  depression.  Revivals  of  religion 
come  in  season  of  panic  and  general  distress.     The 


20 

explanation  is  obvious.  Men  do  not  think  of  the 
living  laws  when  their  minds  are  full  of  other  inter- 
ests. It  is  only  when  their  minds  are  full  of  anxiety 
and  emptiness  that  in  their  helplessness  they  turn 
to  foreign  aid.  But  they  do  it  after  an  irrational  and 
superstitious  manner,  showing  their  inexperience  and 
utter  ignorance  of  the  celestial  powers  by  the  childish- 
ness of  their  behavior.  They  resemble  savages  who 
worship  the  mountain  that  has  dropped  a  boulder 
upon  their  village,  or  the  child  that  thinks  the  wind 
comes  out  of  the  tree  tops.  Like  people  suddenly 
awakened  from  a  deep  slumber,  they  start,  utter  in- 
articulate cries,  glare,  and  fling  their  arms  wildly 
about  as  if  they  were  beset  by  invisible  foes.  A 
practical  acquaintance  with  the  Deity  if  so  we  call 
it,  that  lives  in  the  healing  elements  of  matter  and 
mind,  and  operates  daily  and  hourly  to  restore  men 
to  vigorous  health  when  folly  has  made  them  sick, 
would  save  them  the  labor  of  calling  in  from  some 
remote  quarter  outside  of  the  world,  a  being  who  is 
only  remembered  because  he  had  been  so  long  away. 
Times  of  distress,  even  like  the  present — are  indeed 
provocative  of  thought  on  the  existence  and  attributes 
of  a  Living  God.  No  time  could  be  better  for  such 
inquiry.  For  it  is  when  life  in  us  is  low  that  the  C 
fulness  of  the  divine  life  is  most  clearly  manifest. 
But  manifest  where  ?     Where,  if  not   here,   in  the 


21 

stern,  steadfast,  ragged,  unerring  facts  that  stand  out 
gaunt  and  terrible,  now  that  the  winds  of  adversity 
have  swept  away  the  flowering  shrubbery  that  covered 
them  in  the  sunny  prosperous  weather.  How  the 
living  realities  of  God  stand  out  in  such  years  of 
mental  impoverishment  !  With  what  steady  rush 
the  eternal  flood  pours  along  !  No  prayers  or  inter- 
cessions stop  the  tide-.  The  stream  will  not  desert 
its  channel,  or  swerve  from  its  course,  or  abate  the 
rapidity  of  its  overflow,  because  foolish  people  who 
have  planted  their  grain  in  unsafe  places  bewail  the 
fate  of  their  poultry  yards.  A  whole  people,  com- 
prising the  inhabitants  of  many  states — clamor  for 
renewed  prosperity.  There  is  not  a  man  or  woman 
or  child  old  enough  to  wonder  why  papa  does  not 
buy  new  clothes,  that  does  not  wish  that  the  mills 
might  be  once  more  in  full  operation,  business  active, 
industry  employed,  labor  demanded  and  rewarded, 
real  estate  restored  to  its  just  valuation.  Hundreds 
of  brains  are  busy  with  expedients  for  bringing  back 
prosperity ;  the  lamentations  of  suffering  and  poverty 
rise  louder  from  day  to  day,  but  the  living  deity 
shows  no  signs  of  relenting.  Banks  crumble,  firms 
totter,  bringing  down  ruin  on  hundreds  of  helpless 
people  ;  but  the  weather-cocks  that  indicate  the 
course  of  the  etherial  currents  still  point  inexorably 
in  the  same  direction.     Thousands  must  remain  out 


22 

of  employment  till  they  can  -be  honestly  employed. 
Business  will  continue  dull  till  it  can  be  conducted 
on  a  solid  basis  of  values.  In  the  panic  of  1857,  a 
sturdy  man  wrote  "  This  general  failure,  both  private 
and  public,  is  occasion  for  rejoicing,  as  reminding  us 
whom  we  have  at  the  helm — that  justice  is  always 
done.  If  our  merchants  did  not  most  of  them  fail,  and 
the  banks  too,  my  faith  in  the  old  laws  of  the  world 
would  be  staggered.  The  statement  that  ninety-six 
in  a  hundred  doing  such  business  surely  break  down, 
is  perhaps  the  sweetest  fact  that  statistics  have  re- 
vealed— exhilarating  as  the  fragrance  of  swallows  in 
spring.  Does  it  not  say  somewhere  'The  Lord  reigneth, 
let  the  earth  rejoice?  '  If  thousands  are  thrown  out 
of  employment,  it  suggests  that  they  were  not  well 
employed.  Why  don't  they  take  the  hint?  "  If  we 
would  but  return  to  the  God  who  lives  in  first  prin- 
ciples, cease  from  wild  speculation,  check  over  pro- 
duction, incur  no  debts  we  cannot  pay,  and  pay  our 
debts  in  solid  values  that  all  civilized  men  recognize, 
the  Living  God  would  need  no  invitation  to  make  his 
blessings  felt  by  high  and  low  ;  plenty  would  return, 
and  with  plenty,  gladness  and  praise.  A  revival  of 
faith  in  the  simple,  old  fashioned,  too  familiar  laws  of 
commercial  honor  and  honesty  between  man  and  man 
is  the  revival  of  religion  we  need.  If  half  the  zeal 
expended  in  the  endeavor  to  bring  to  bear  supernat- 


23 

ural  aid  were  devoted  to  the  task  of  begetting  con- 
formity with  the  rules  of  order  and  success  that  are 
as  familiar  to  us  as  our  nursery  speech,  the  desire  of 
every  heart  would  be  accomplished.  God  is  not  far 
off;  He  is  only  too  near.  It  is  because  He  is  the 
Living  God  that  we  do  not  see  Him.  It  is  because 
we  think  of  him  as  a  God  dead  or  absentee,  that  we 
clamor  for  His  presence. 

At  the  time  of  the  recent  accident  from  the  broken 
fire  ladder  by  which  brave  men  lost  their  lives  and 
families  were  plunged  into  misery,  I  was  asked  if  I 
saw  the  hand  of  Providence  in  all  that.  Not  the  hand 
only,  I  replied,  but  the  whole  arm,  the  whole  person, 
the  very  soul  of  Providence.  Had  not  Providence 
been  leading  the  way  for  untold  centuries  to  the  in- 
vention and  manufacture  of  that  very  fire  ladder? 
Had  not  thousands  of  ages  been  granted  for  the  test- 
ing of  wood  and  iron?  Had  not  the  mechanical 
forces,  so  called — weight,  tension,  resistance,  lever- 
age, been  tried  by  experiments  innumerable  ?  Is  it 
not  perfectly  well  known  precisely  how  much  strain 
any  machinS  can  bear  ?  Are  there  not  scores  of 
engineers  and  mechanics  who  must,  every  day  of  their 
lives,  declare,  and  declare  positively,  under  oath  as 
it  were,  how  many  ounces  or  tons  it  will  do  to  place 
on  a  given  column  of  stone,  iron  or  wood,  in  a  given 
position  ?      Does  any  one  pretend  to  say  that  Provi- 


24 

dence  has  not  kept  its  word  in  this  particular  in- 
stance ?     Is  it  so  much  as  whispered  that  the  ladder 
would  have  given  way  and   flung  the  men   to  the 
ground,  if  the  well  known  conditions  had  been  com- 
plied with,  and  the  machine  had  been  taxed  no  more 
than  its  strength  justified?  It  seems  to  me  that  Prov- 
vidence  has  foreseen  everything,  has  measured  with 
its  eye  every  inch  and  atom,  and  made  sure  as  fate 
every  contingency.   'But  why  did  He  not  make  so 
sure  that  the  catastrophe  could  not  happen  ?     Because 
to  have  done  that  would  have  been  to  retract  the 
declarations  of  ages,  would  have  been  to  declare  that 
the  method  of  experiment,  apparently  adopted  ever 
since  man  appeared  on  the  planet,  was  a  bare  pretence 
after  all,  a  mere  "fetch,"  not  seriously  intended ;  that 
the  virtues  of  caution,  prudence,  forethought,  fidelity 
which  had  been  under  painful  cultivation  for  a  million 
or  so  of  years,  were  of  no  manner  of  account.     A 
greater  improvidence  than  this  could  not  be  imagined. 
A  Providence  that  could  to  all  seeming  exert  so  much 
prevision  and  take  so  much  pains,  and  then   allow 
that  the  prevision  was  at  fault  and  the  ^ains  wasted, 
would  be  scouted  and  mocked   at  by  the  ordinary 
housekeeper  and  nursery  governess.     A  Deity  who 
could  do  that  would  simply  deny  His  own  existence* 
turn  atheist  on  His  own  account,  commit  an  eternal 
suicide,  not  merely  kill  Himself,  but  abolish  Himself 


25 

by  eradicating  His  very  memory.  He  would  be 
deader  than  dead;  He  would  flout  the  idea  that  He 
had  ever  lived. 

But  might  there  not  have  been  some  expression 
of  regret  over  the  catastrophe,  some  sign  of  pity  for 
the  sufferers,  some  evidence  of  sorrow  for  the  wretch- 
edness of  the  widows  and  orphans  ?    Tenderness  ! 
Think  of  the  tenderness   expressed    in  the  patient 
education  of   the   iron  and   wood  for  their  sacred 
functions  ;  in  the  tedious  process  of  instructing  men 
in  the  knowledge  most  essential  to  their  own  happi- 
ness ;  in  the  training  of  mankind  in  fidelity  to  the 
conditions   of  their  own  safety !  and  after  all  this 
gentle  forbearance,    and   pitiful  consideration,  and 
compassionate  forecast,  never  for  an  instant  inter- 
mitted, and  exhibited  up  to  the  last  moment,  is  it 
fair  to  ask  for  more?     To  demand  that  providence 
should  shed  tears  over  those  who  have  flung  its  com- 
passions to  the  winds  ?     Should  express  sorrow  that 
its  own  laws  had  been  fulfilled,  and  its  own  predic- 
tions had  come  to  pass  ?     To  me  there  is  deeper  sen- 
timent of  grief  in  the  silence,  unbroken  by  reproach, 
that  follows  these  wilful  and  foolhardy  defiances  of 
the  life  of  ages.     If  the  compassionate  Lord  of  life 
could  have  been  induced  to  utter  any  voice,  it  must, 
one  would  think,  have  been  a  voice  of  indignant  re- 
monstance  against  the  block-headed  stupidity  andbot- 


26 

tomless  folly  that  after  centuries  of  demonstration 
will  coolly  take  it  for  granted  that  nothing  has  been 
established,  that  God  is  not  a  living  being  after  all, 
but  only  a  ghostly  fiction.  "  Nature  is  pitiless  !  "  says 
Victor  Hugo :  "  she  never  withdraws  her  flowers,  her 
music,  her  joyousness,  her  sunlight  from  before  human 
cruelty  or  suffering.  She  overwhelms  man  by  the  con- 
trast between  social  hideousness  and  divine  beauty." 
The  Living  God  is  the  only  God  there  is.  He 
does  not  come  to  life  ;  He  lives.  To  think  of  Him  as 
absent,  is  to  forget  Him.  We  read  the  stately  psalm 
beginning  "  O  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  me  and 
known  me,"  and  wonder  how  the  writer  of  it  was 
able  to  strike  so  deep  a  chord.  The  wonder  ceases 
when  we  come  to  know  that  calamity  and  contempt 
driving  him  back  upon  the  simple  realities  of  life,  had 
opened  in  his  wilderness  the  springs  that  are  never 
exhausted.  Coming  to  life  himself  he  discovered, 
that  God  was  perennially  alive.  His  was  not  so  much 
the  language  of  inspiration  as  it  was  the  language  of 
human  faith  and  hope.  As  the  drilling  of  an  artesian 
well  brings  water  from  the  "  footless  mountains  " 
hundreds  of  leagues  away,  so,  by  drilling  beneath  the 
surface  into  the  depths  of  common  human  experience, 
one  brings  the  grace  of  the  dew  that  falls  on  the 
sightless  hill  tops  of  eternity. 


ALLEGIANCE  TO  FAITH. 

The  subject  of  this  address  is  the  Radical's  Alle- 
giance to  Faith.  The  purpose  of  it  is  to  show  the 
ground  of  that  allegiance,  and  to  quicken  the  feeling 
of  it  in  liberal  breasts.  Faith  may  be  defined  as 
reason's  pledge  to  beliefs  that  transcend  actual  vision 
and  knowledge.  Loyalty  to  faith  has  always  ranked 
high  among  virtues.  To  have  no  faith  at  all  has  in 
all  times  been  held  as  a  sign  that  the  mind  lacked 
spirituality  and  earnestness.  To  have  a  faith  and 
be  disloyal  to  it  is  branded  as  apostasy,  the  most 
heinous  of  guilt.  The  test  of  allegiance  to  faith  is 
the  amount  of  ease,  comfort,  or  other  external  good 
that  is  sacrificed  to  it. 

It  is  a  general  impression  not  among  so-called 
Orthodox  alone,  but  among  liberals  also,  that  the 
allegiance  of  the  latter  is  slack,  and  the  inference 
drawn  is  that  they  have  no  faith  that   commands 


allegiance,  that  loyalty  to  faith  is  a  thing  unknown, 
and  that  it  is  on  the  decrease  in  proportion  as,  becom- 
ing "  liberal,"  men  lose  their  hold  on  positive  ideas. 

I  will  allow  the  alleged  slackness  to  pass  for  the 
moment  unqaiestioned.  Let  us  try  to  account  for  it, 
and  also  to  remove  it.  That  the  zeal  of  the  so-called 
Orthodox,  as  displayed  in  conspicuous  works,  the 
expenditure  of  great  sums  of  money  and  of  vast 
labor  on  religious  effort  of  all  kinds,  is  greatly  in 
advance  of  anything  the  liberals  can  show  is  an  open 
fact.  Indeed  if  "  works  "  be  the  accredited  evidence 
of  faith,  the  faith  of  the  liberals  must  be  reckoned 
exceedingly  small,  for  their  performances  in  the  way 
of  sustaining  and  spreading  their  ideas  bear  no  com- 
parison with  those  of  their  "  evangelical "  neighbors. 
This  may  be  explained  in  part  by  the  comparative 
fewness  of  their  numbers  ;  but  it  may  be  doubted  if 
the  performance  of  radicals  is  in  fair  proportion  to 
their  numbers,  letting  alone  the  consideration  that 
zeal  makes  little  account  of  numbers.  Numbers  will 
hardly  explain  zeal,  neither  will  the  greater  amount 
of  wealth.  As  a  rule  Orthodoxy  is  richer  than  liberal- 
Cism.  Conservatives  as  a  class  are  richer  than  radicals. 
It  may  be  that  wealth  makes  people  conservative  ;  it 
may  be  that  the  structure  of  the  conservative  mirid 
is  better  adapted  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth.  On 
either  supposition,  men  of  liberal  opinions  have  never 


been  distinguished  by  the  abundance  of  their  worldly 
possessions. 

But  here  again,  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  \ 
all  charities  and  operations  wherein  feeling  predom- 
inates, the  poor  give  with  far  greater  freedom  than 
the  rich.  Nearly  all  religious  operations  are  carried 
on  by  the  multitudinous  small  offerings  of  the  poor, 
and  where  the  poor  are  not  numerous  their  contribu- 
tions are  usually  out  of  all  proportion  to  their  means. 

We  come  nearer  to  the  point  where  we  mention 
the  effect  of  Sectarianism  in  stimulating  zeal.  In 
fact,  zeal  is  nearly  commensurate  with  Sectarianism. 
Sectarianism  multiplies  parties,  builds  churches,^ 
starts  newspapers  and  magazines,  ordains  ministers, 
founds  colleges,  libraries,  lectureships,  institutes,  mis- 
sion schools ;  maintains  ecclesiastical  powers,  sus- 
tains missionary  effort,  stirs  up  the  competition 
and  rivalry  that  keep  religious  people  on  the  stretch 
to  outdo  one  another.  The  decrease  of  the  Sectarian 
spirit  would  leave  many  a  cistern  empty,  and  make 
many  a  channel  dry,  and  turn  exulting  and  abound- 
ing rivers  of  enthusiasm  into .  thin  trickling  stream- 
lets of  muddy  and  slow  moving  water.  The  Sec- 
tarian spirit  being  the  spirit  of  envy,  distrust,  rivalry, 
deepening  into  bitterness  and  even  hate,  stirs 
up  the  acrid  and  malignant  temper  that  is  unscrup- 
ulous in  the  pursuit  of  its  ends.     The  average  man} 


spends  more  on  his  antipathy  than  on  his  sympathy, 
sacrifices  more  to  crush  his  enemies  than  to  aid  his 
friends,  will  sooner  give  his  life  to  gratify  his  rage 
than  give  a  small  portion  of  his  goods  to  prove  his 
loving  kindness.  More  than  one  wears  the  crown  of 
the  martyr  who  went  to  the  stake  to  maintain  a  pre- 
judice he  would  rather  burn  than  yield.     Now,  in 

^the  true  liberal  the  Sectarian  spirit  is  extinct.  It  is 
against  his  profession ;  it  is  abhorrent  to  his  intellect- 
ual nature.  He  makes  its  suppression  a  duty,  taking 
himself  severely  to  task  if  he  finds  a  vestige  of  it  re- 
maining in  his  mind.     He  can  neither  fight  for  a  creed, 

(^nor  spend  for  a  creed.  Such  enthusiasm  as  he  has 
must  be  an  enthusiasm  for  religion  pure  and  unde- 
filed,  for  the  beauty  and  truth  of  ideas,  for  intellect- 
ual principles  freed  from  all  alloy  of  private  or  class 
prejudice ;  his  allegiance  is  to  truth  uncompromised 
and  unadorned.  It  must  not  be  expected  that  an 
enthusiasm  like  this  will  make  any  show  beside  the 
noisy,  hot,  partisan  fanaticism  whose  ambition  is  for 
party  triumph. 

/  That  the  popular  religion  gains  adherents  through 
the  promise  it  holds  out  of  worldly  emolument  and 

^^^uccess,  need  not  be  said.  Orthodox  allegiance  cer- 
tainly is  more  lucrative  than  allegiance  to  radical 
views.  "  Evangelicalism  "  is  rich  and  popular ;  it 
controls  opinion  ;  it  commands  the  avenues  to  power 


and  place ;  it  has  the  key  to  social  favor  and  dis- 
tinction. But  the  allegiance  of  the  self-seeking  is^ 
no  help  to  any  faith.  They  strengthen  the  side  they 
abandon,  and  pull  down  the  institutions  they  patron- 
ize. They  are  a  plague  of  mice  and  locusts,  devour- 
ing the  field  they  occupy.  They  are  an  army  of 
traitors,  dangerous  in  proportion  to  the  clashing  of 
their  weapons  and  the  vehemence  of  their  "  hurrah." 
The  apparent  weakness  of  liberalism  from  the  de- 
sertion of  the  multitude  who  go  where  there  is  mosV 
to  be  got,  is  a  real  strength. 

No  doubt  the  blandishments  of  worldliness  will 
account  in  large  measure  for  the  apparent  overflow 
of  enthusiasm  on  the  one  side,  and  the  apparent  sub- 
sidence of  it  on  the  other,  for  people  will  put 
themselves  forward  when  their  interest  requires  them 
to  do  so,  and  will  make  noisy  demonstrations  of  zeal 
when  they  would  attract  attention  and  secure  the 
patronage  they  look  for.  They  who  solicit  favors 
occupy  front  seats.  Indeed,  forwardness  is  a  sign  of  / 
insincerity.  But  powerful  as  worldliness  is  as  an  ally 
of  any  popular  faith,  other-worldliness,  as  it  has  been 
happily  called,  is  an  ally  much  more  powerful. 
Orthodoxy  offers  the  heaviest  conceivable  bribe  to 
cupidity  in  its  promise  of  salvation  from  misery  here- 
after. Having  on  either  hand  the  angels  of  terror 
and  of  trust,  pointing  on  one  side  to  heaven  and  its 


8 

deathless  glories,  on  the  other  side  to  hell  and  its 
endless  agonies,  and  making  loud  profession .  of  its 
ability  to  open  the  one  door,  and  close  the  other 
to  mortal  men,  it  plays  on  human  hopes  and 
fears  in  a  way  that  the  multitude  are  wholly  power- 
less to  resist.  Fortified  with  the  authority  of  ages, 
bold  in  the  support  of  traditions  reaching  far  into 
the  depths  of  antiquity,  backed  by  the  witness  of 
learned  and  earnest  men,  eloquent  with  the  lan- 
guage of  consecrated  scriptures,  having  at  its  com- 
mand all  the  arts  of  superstition,  it  is  able  to  lash 
into  fury  or  to  subdue  into  tenderness  the  tossing, 
fluctuating  emotions  of  mankind,  extorting  from  them 
treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  costlier  treasures  of  af- 
fection thought  and  duty,  the  sacrifice  of  personal 
will  and  being.  It  can  move  the  soul  to  its  depths, 
and  compel  an  allegiance  made  up  of  the  heartiest 
gratitude  and  utterly  consecrated  love.    \ 

It  is  no  cause  of  wonder  that  a  religion  like  this 
gains  devoted  adherents.  It  were  indeed  strange 
if  it  did  not ;  strange  if  the  allegiance  of  its 
multitude  were  wanting  in  any  quality  of  pas- 
sionate intensity.  It  is  common  among  liberals 
to  say  that  the  multitude  are  attracted  to  this  religion 
by  selfish  motives,  and  that  their  loyalty  consequently 
is  lacking  in  every  noble  attribute.  But  is  it  fair  to 
bestow  the  ugly  word  "  selfishness  "  on  the  honest 


desire  for  eternal  felicity  ?  Is  there  one  of  ns  wlio 
would  not  give  in  his  ullei^'iance  to  the  Orthodox 
faith,  if  he  admitted  its  claim  to  ensure  painlessness, 
and  peace,  and  joy  for  so  much  as  a  century  after 
death?  Truly  there  is  nothing  ignoble  in  love  of 
the  soul,  even  though  it  were  purely  private  and  per- 
sonal, supposing  that  love  to  wrong  no  fellow  crea- 
ture. To  be  indifferent  to  such  tremendous  issues  as 
Orthodoxy  presents,  granting  its  right  to  present 
them,  would  indicate  a  degree  of  moral  deadness 
that  might  take  one  out  of  the  category  of  humanity. 
But  it  must  be  conceded  that  Orthodoxy  does  not 
allow  people  to  be  satisfied  with  an  assurance  of  per- 
sonal and  private  safety  in  tlie  hereafier.  It  cease- 
lessly urges  the  duty  of  saving  others  from  woe.  Its 
missionary  efforts  are  untiring.  In  fact,  its  churches 
are  missionary  societies,  working  in  many  ways  at  tiie 
task  of  interesting  mankind  at  large — everywhere,  of 
aU  conditions,  in  all  latitudes  and  longitudes.  bre?.dths, 
and  depths  of  ignorance  and  depravity,  in  this  one 
concern — the  safety  and  felicity  of  their  immortal 
souls.  The  enthusiasm  of  religion  discharges  itself 
in  endeavors  to  fulfil  this  task.  The  zeal  burns  for 
this  ;  for  this,  money  flows  in  rivers,  and  men  spend 
themselves  in  armies  ;  for  this,  stations  of  prophec  y 
are  planted  on  the  islands  of  the  sea  and  in  the  wil  - 
derness. 


10 

Liberalism  can  make  no  such  appeal.  The  claim 
of  Orthodoxy  is  to  her  a  baseless  assumption.  She 
accepts  no  such  philosophy  of  the  future  existence ; 
and  if  she  did,  she  might  question  the  title  of  any 
Church  to  award  to  human  beings  the  meed  of  their 
destiny.  Liberalism  claims  no  loyalty  or  devotion 
on  the  ground  that  she  has  a  voice  in  deciding  the 
fate  of  human  creatures  after  death.  She  neither 
drives  by  the  whip  nor  allures  by  the  prize.  She 
neither  terrifies  by  menace  nor  wins  by  promise. 
The  excitements  of  passion,  whether  of  love  or  of 
fear  she  discards.  In  her  view  the  future,  whatever  and 
wherever  and  how  long  soever  it  may  be,  is  condi- 
_tioned  on  the  present.  The  next  life,  according  to 
its  notion,  is  the  nearest  life.  However  high  into  the 
heavens  the  structure  may  lead,  the  foundation  must 
be  laid  in  the  terrestrial  soil. 

''But  has  not  Liberalism,  even  here,  at  this  very 
point,  a  ground  for  making  an  earnest  appeal  to 
reasonable  men  ?  Letting  go  the  region  after  death 
as  an  undiscovered  country,  and  confining  regard 
to  men  where  they  are,  the  task  is  to  discover  the 
laws  of  character ;  to  ascertain  the  rules  of  wise, 
just,  healthful  and  noble  living;  to  establish  and  re- 
veal the  conditions  of  goodness,  and  make  them  so 
evident  and  attractive,  that  men  and  women  shall  wish 
and  purpose  first  of  all  to  justify  themselves  to  their 


11 

own  hearts,  to  their  fellow-men,  and  to  the  princi- 
ples of  the  ideal  world ;  to  teach  and  urge  them  so 
to  live  that  the  future  shall  be  determined  by  their 
character  and  be  quietly  allowed  to  take  care  of  it- 
self as  a  thing  in  any  event  provided  for  and  so  to  be 
dismissed  from  anxious  consideration.  This  is  the^ 
aim  and  intent  of  Liberalism,  and  in  the  discharge  of 
this  it  may  honestly  feel  an  enthusiasm  profound  and 
intense,  even  if  serene  and  still.  The  liberal  says 
"  Amen "  to  the  declaration  of  the  stout  reformer 
who  being  admonished  by  a  friend  of  the  danger  lest 
in  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  humanity,  he  might 
forget  the  concern  of  his  own  soul,  replied :  "  I  have 
rnot  time  to  think  whether  I  have  a  soul ; "  but  his 
applause  is  given  to  the  implied  sentiment  that  the 
concern  of  the  soul  is  best  looked  after  by  him 
who  is  diligent  to  keep  the  soul  strong  and  sweet  in 
the  qualities  of  kindness,  courage  and  faithfulness  to 
duty,  inasmuch  as  these  constitute  the  soul,  and  to  be 
destitute  of  these  is  to  be  nothing  short  of  soulless. 

This  is  Liberalism's  first  claim  to  the  loyalty  of 
its  adherents,  and  a  very  strong  claim  it  is  ;  for 
character  does  not  come  of  itself;  neither  are  the 
laws  and  conditions  of  character  so  easy  to  discover 
or  so  simple  to  understand  that  they  need  no  inter- 
pretation ;  nor  are  the  claims  of  character  on  the 
love  and  service  of  mankind  so  evident  that  they 


i2 

require  no  earnest,  eloquent  and  continuous  pre- 
sentation ;  nor  are  the  issues  of  character  in  conse- 
quence so  clear  that  none  need  feel  called  on  to 
unfold  their  grandeur  or  illustrate  their  splendor. 
If  the  ordination  of  a  separate  ministry  be  justified 
that  people  may  have  due  regard  for  their  welfare  by 
and  by,  a  separate  ministry  is  even  more  justified  to 
the  end  that  people  may  have  due  regard  to  their 
mental  and  moral  welfare  now  ;  for  if  there  be  any-  < 
thing  more  difiicult  than  another  it  is  to  see  clearly 
the  way  of  noble  living  and  to  walk  in  it  with  un- 
swerving and  unfaltering  steps.  So  long  as  the  path 
of  wisdom  is  so  crooked,  narrow,  thorny  and  cloudy 
as  it  is ;  so  long  as  men  are  confused  as  they  are  now 
by  passion  and  prejudice,  by  whim  and  caprice,  by 
fascinations  and  enchantments  innumerable,  there 
will  be  work  enough  for  prophets  and  preachers,  and 
call  enough  for  seasons  of  meditation  and  worship. 
If  all  the  appliances  of  Christendom  now  workings© 
industriously  at  the  conversion  of  mankind,  were 
turned  to  the  labor  of  making  mankind  clean,  re- 
..spectable,  honest  and  kind,  it  would  be  none  too  much. 
We  should  not  wish  to  dispense  with  an  altar,  a 
priest  or  a  symbol.  And  when  Liberals  shall  see  that 
this  is  their  calling  they  will  rally  to  it  with  an  alert- 
ness that  will  effectually  silence  the  accusation  of 
lukewarmness  that  has  been  heard  so  long. 


And  let  not  the  Liberal  be  touelied  Ijy  the  insin- 
uation that  his  laek  of  enthusiasm  is  simply  \yhat 
might  he  expeeted  in  one  wlio  holds  a  negative  sys- 
tem. We  have  heard  this  story  too  long.  A'ery  true 
it  is  that  enthusiasm  for  a  negative  system  is  impos- 
sible. Faith  must  be  positive  to  awaken  zeal  and 
command  allegiance.  Faith  in  negations  is  no 
faith.  And  very  true  it  is  that  in  years  gone  by,  in 
the  early  stages  of  its  development.  Liberalism  was 
mainly  a  system  of  negations,  and  to  the  rigor  of  its 
denials  owed  what  strength  and  popularity  it  had. 
To  pull  the  old  theology  to  pieces  was  its  avowed 
purpose  ;  to  disprove  the  Trinity,  undeify  the 
Christ,  expose  the  logical  and  the  moral  weakness 
of  the  doctrine  of  vicarious  atonement,  hold  up 
to  denunciation  and  ridicule  the  belief  in  human 
depravity.,  pour  wrath  and  scorn  on  the  dogma 
of  everlasting  perdition,  detect  the  inconsistencies 
and  errors  of  Scripture,  and  prove  the  ground- 
lessness of  ecclesiastical  and  dogmatical  assump- 
tion. There  are  those  who  still  pursue  that  old 
method,  taking  the  creeds  literally,  raking  up  hor- 
rible doctrines  that  never  had  general  acceptance 
and  fastening  responsibility  for  them  on  Churches 
that  never  entertained  them,  bringing  to  light  ex- 
pressions long  obsolete  and  quoting  them  as  declara- 
tions of  living  faith.    But  these  persons  are  few  and 


14 

they  hold  no  important  place  in  the  Liberal  school. 
A  new  method  has  succeeded  to  the  old  one  and  sup- 
planted it.      The   task   undertaken   at   present   by 
thoughtful  Liberals  is  the  task  of  interpreting  the. 
beliefs  their  fathers  protested  against  and  discarded. 
To   understand   what   those   ancient  beliefs   meant 
when  they  were  fashioned  is  the  problem  before  the 
.  Liberal  of  to-day.    For  surely  they  meant  something ; 
they  were  the  creations  of  long,  earnest,  and  consecra- 
ted thought ;   they  voiced  the  deep  convictions  of 
men  profoundly  moved.      The  meaning  may  be  ac- 
ceptable or  otherwise,  may  be  true,  or  untrue,  may 
be  justified  or  not,  by  actual  knowledge.     But  at  all 
events  in  the  time  of  their  formation  they  did  mean 
something,  and  something  often  very  different  from 
what  the  words  import  to  modern  readers.     Even 
such  doctrines  as  the  essential  depravity  of  human 
nature,  the  imputation  of  sin,  the  substitution  of  the 
innocent  for  the  guilty,  the  destruction  or  damnation 
of  the  unbelieving,  the  perdition  of  unbaptized  in- 
fants, had  an  interior  meaning  which  it  is  necessary 
to  discover  if  we  would  render  justice  to  the  human 
mind,  or  comprehend  the  unfoldings  of  thought  in 
humanity.      To  do  this   is    no   slight  undertaking, 
and  no  small  service.     To  do  it  successfully  would 
be  an  achievement  for  which  the  reward  of  gratitude 
would  be   richly   due.       It   would   clear   up   some 


16 

of  the  darkest   pasages   in   history,  and  straighten 
out  some  of   the  crookedest  by-ways  of  the  mind. 
It   would   reveal    the    surest    and    safest    way    of 
combating   superstition,    and   delivering   men   from 
the  snares  of  ignorance,  and  the  pit-falls  of  credulity. 
Liberal  teachers  are  doing  no  more  important  work 
than  this.     Already  good  has  been  accomplished  in 
unexpected  measure.     Mysteries  have  given  up  their 
secret.      Dogmas  have   disclosed  an  innocent    and 
even  friendly   intent   beneath    their    prickly   rind. 
Ancient  scriptures  have  become  intelligible ;  ghosts 
have  been  laid ;  and  whole  regions  of  thought  have 
been  disenchanted.     When  now  it  is  considered  how 
much  this  kind  of  investigation  is  needed,  and  how 
far-reaching  the  results  of  it  may  be,  there  should  be 
no  lack  of  interest  in  the  movement  that  inaugur- 
ated it  and  that  presses  it  on.     If  Liberalism  con- 
fined itself  to  the  business  of  doing  this,  it  would 
work  positively  in  the  cause  of  human  enlighten- 
ment and  emancipation. 

The  burden  of  superstition  is  still  heavy  on  the,, 
breast  of  mankind.  Ever  and  anon  some  astonishing 
example  of  it  comes  to  our  knowledge,  and  makes 
us  all  but  despair  of  the  education  of  the  people.  In 
Catholic  and  Protestant  Churches  equally,  in  all 
Churches,  wherever  the  word  religion  is  spoken,  su- 
perstition is  an  actual  power.     It  is  a  power  that 


16 

must  be  disenchanted,  for  it  is  too  strong  to  be  over- 
come, and  the  way  to  disenchant  it  is  to  let  the 
beams  of  a  "  kindly  light "'  into  the  gloomy  regions 
where  it  has  its  birth. 

This  positive  attitude  Liberalism  takes  toward 
the  beliefs  it  used  to  assail  as  abominable  errors. 
The  position  is  an  interesting  and  commanding  one. 
And  when  the  view  taken  of  obnoxious  Christian 
dogmas  is  extended  to  the  theologies  of  other  reli- 
gions the  character  it  assumes  is  exceedingly  grand. 
Christianity  ranked  the  deities  of  other  religions 
among  demons.  Orthodox  Christianity  to-day  de- 
nounces as  evil,  beliefs  that  are  at  variance  with  its 
own.  Liberalism  more  cordial  because  more  believ- 
ing, puts  the  most  generous  construction  on  all 
faiths,  studies  them  from  within,  gives  them  credit 
for  sincerity  and  for  enlightenment  in  their  day,  ac- 
cepts them  as  part  of  the  intellectual  history  of  man- 
kind, inserts  them  as  links  in  the  spiritual  chain 
that  binds  the  soul  of  generations  together,  is  eager 
to  make  them  honorable  witnesses  to  the  noble  striv- 
ing of  the  race  after  truth.  How  inspiring  such  a 
view  of  faith  in  comparison  with  the  view  of  the 
bigot  who  denounces,  of  the  fanatic  who  persecutes, 
or  of  the  dogmatist  who  merely  stands  still  and  af- 
firms !  If  zeal  can  be  enlisted  in  the  maintenance  and 
defence  of  fixed  opinions,  how  much  more  should  it 


be  enlisted  in  their  resolution  and  illnniination  ? 
How  cheeririL;'  the  sunnnons  to  sujtport  a  movement 
which  contemplates  rendL-rint;'  full  justice  to  the  as- 
pirations of  mankind.  l)rinL;in^'  liarmony  out  of  the 
discordant  utterances  of  faith,  demonstratinu^  tlie 
fraternity  of  earnest  thinkers  and  deep  feelers  in  all 
time,  and  settini^  towards  the  light  faces  that  for 
centuries  have  been  clouded  with  the  shadow  of 
misapprehension  I  This  is  the  allegiance  that  Liber- 
alism asks  of  its  friends. 

Liberalism  asks  for  allegiance  moreover  on  the 
ground  of  the  positive  ideas  it  holds  up  to  the  gaze 
of  mankind,  and  of  the  new  light  it  sheds  on  these 
ideas.  The  words  it  uses  are  the  old  words  of  faith 
that  religion  has  always  employed,  and  which  still 
stand  better  than  any  others  for  tlie  great  conceptions 
that  have  awed  and  exliilarated  and  consoled  human- 
ity, the  words  God.  Immortality.  Duty,  the  INIoral 
Law.  Fraught  with  rich  meaning  these  words  al- 
ways are  ;  but  how  much  deeper  and  richer  the  mean- 
ing is  with  which  Li])eralism  charges  them  I 

The  word  "  God  "'  for  instance  has  been  by  no 
religious  system  largely  interpreted  so  as  to  cover 
the  accumulating  facts  in  regard  to  the  constitution 
of  nature,  and  the  increasing  knowledge  in  regard  to 
the  laws  of  the  outward  and  inward  universe.  One 
of  the  oldest  words  in  human  speech,  a  word  charged 


18 

with  the  highest  meanings  the  mind  could  entertain, 
its  significance  was  still  limited  by  the  limitations  of 
the  mind.  The  word  held  no  more  than  was  put  in- 
to it,  and  as  very  little  was  put  in,  it  contained  very 
little.  Having  narrow  senses  attached  to  it,  it  re- 
mained narrow  and  definite  in  itself  so  that  it  be- 
came a  theological  term  instead  of  a  term  descriptive 
of  the  deepest  reverence  and  the  broadest  thought. 
It  is  painfully  surprising  to  consider  the  petty  fancies, 
the  preposterous  notions,  the  wild,  rude,  barbarous 
fictions  that  have  been  fastened  on  the  word ;  to  re- 
flect how  the  word  has  been  monopolized  as  it  were 
by  sects  and  sections  of  sects ;  by  local  associations 
of  creed-mongers,  by  companies  of  logic  choppers, 
fabulists,  my tliologers,  prodigy  hunters,  class  leaders, 
and  wire-pulling  revivalists;  it  is  melancholy  past 
expression  to  remember  how  the  great  Name  that 
stands  for  the  best  we  think  and  the  grandest  we 
imagine  has  b«  en  used  as  a  spell  to  conjure  by,  as  a 
catch  word  to  rally  a  crusade  against  intellect,  or  a 
watch  cry  against  human  nobility.  A  keen  writer 
has  said  with  perfect  truth  that  a  complete  knowl- 
edge of  God  is  the  privilege  of  the  utterly  ignorant. 
The  ignorant  have  seized  on  the  divine  name  and 
have  made  It  synonymous  with  every  kind  of  stu- 
pidity and  foolishness.  It  sometimes  seems  as  if 
the  word  "  God"  was  doomed  and  could  not  be  res- 


19 

cued  from  the  hands  of  the  idolaters.  Yet  it  is  w  orth 
an  effort  to  save  it.  For  there  is  no  other  that  speaks 
to  mind,  heart,  conscience,  sou],  as  this  does.  No 
other  can  or  ever  will  be  accepted.  It  is  part  of  the 
task  of  Liberalism  to  redeem  it,  to  release  it  from  the 
thraldom  of  definitions,  and  make  it  voice  the  mind, 
heart,  conscience,  soul  of  to-day.  And  what  a  task 
that  is  he  only  can  imagine  who  knows  what  bound- 
less wealth  of  suggestion  is  contained  in  the  terms 
employed  by  science  in  its  full  range,  and  by  philos- 
ophy when  it  rises  to  its  full  height.  If  it  could 
overarch  the  greatest  minds  as  it  presses  down  upon 
the  smallest,  it  would  consecrate  a  temple  compared 
with  which  our  Churches  are  as  mushrooms,  springing 
up  in  a  night.  Then  what  new  and  bright  interpreta- 
tions of  Providence  !  What  fresh  ideas  and  practices 
of  worship  I  What  sweet  lessons  of  trust !  If  Lib- 
eralism aimed  at  nothing  else  than  the  justification 
of  this  majestic  word,  it  would  have  a  claim  on  the 
allegiance  of  the  best  minds. 

But  the  service  it  renders  to  the  conception  of 
God  it  renders,  or  would  render,  to  other  words 
equally  sublime  of  import  and  equally  venerable  from 
association.  The  word  "  immortality,"  for  example. 
How  grievously  has  not  that  been  abused  by  the 
system-makers  in  every  period!  To  the  Roman 
Catholic  it  suggests  an  indefinite  term  of  purgatory. 


20 

ending  at  last  in  a  fixed  condition  of  blessedness  or 
misery.  To  the  Protestant  it  suggests  the  waking 
from  a  long  sleep  at  the  sound  of  the  irumpet,  the 
loud  summons  to  the  bar  of  the  Supreme  Judge,  trial 
before  the  Christ,  the  admission  to  a  monotonous 
blessedness,  or  the  consignment  to  an  equally  mono- 
tonous agony.  To  the  Theist  it  suggests  endless 
effort,  discipline,  progression,  and  ultimate  repose  in 
God.  To  the  Pantheist  absorption  in  the  divine 
beatitude.  To  the  Spiritualist  a  renewal  of  the 
satisfactions  and  joys  of  the  present  existence.  But 
these  interpretations  are  all  partial  and  insufficient. 
None  of  them  eij^iiaust  or  begin  to  exhaust  the  capa- 
cities of  the  term.  None  of  them  can  claim  to  do 
more  than  throw  out  a  hint  of  those  capacities.  All 
confine  the  conception  within  limits  of  individu- 
ality that  render  impossible  the  play  of  the  full 
personal  power.  All  think  more  of  pain  and  pleas- 
ure than  they  do  of  elevation  and  influence.  All  ^ 
turn  over  the  chances  of  having  a  good  time,  as  if 
that  was  the  chief  consideration,  and  do  no  justice  to 
the  promise  of  perpetuating  character  and  leaving  a 
trail  of  moral  force  behind  to  help  on  the  work  of 
improving  the  world.  Liberalism  would  fain  fill  out 
the  idea  of  immortality,  so  as  to  make  it  report  all 
that  the  noblest  aspire  to  as  well  as  all  that  the 
ignoblest  dread,  and  all  that  the  sad  and  lonely  sigh 


21 

for.  It  would  fain  make  the  belief  stand  for  some- 
thing good  and  inspiring  to  people  who  have  no  faith 
in  continued  personal  existence,  and  no  assurance  or 
desire  of  assurance,  that  they  shall  renew  hereafter 
the  relations  that  perhaps  have  been  none  too  blessed 
on  earth.  It  would  increase  the  number  of  believers 
in  immortality,  by  multiplying  the  forms  in  which  the 
belief  may  be  honestly  and  powerfully  held ;  it  would 
abolish  the  distrust  which  the  several  classes  of  believ- 
ers feel  towards  each  other,  and  encourage  all  of  what- 
ever school  to  conspire  as  fellow-believers  in  making 
the  dream  of  the  hereafter  encouraging  and  sweet. 
Is  not  this  an  end  worth  hoping  for  and  striving 
after  ?  And  should  not  all  attempts  to  promote  such 
an  end  be  welcomed  and  aided  by  all  worthy  means 
at  command? 

Take  another  example,  the  Moral  Law.  Liber- 
alism has  an  ambition  to  do  for  that  conception  the 
same  service  it  renders  to  the  beliefs  in  immortality  and 
God, — affirming  it  not  on  the  strength  of  ancient  and 
world-wide  tradition,  but  on  the  strength  of  univer- 
sal and  organic  fact.  It  reverently  reads  the  Deca- 
logue ;  it  heeds  with  awe  the  magnificent  consent  of 
nations  in  their  declarations  respecting  the  authority 
of  conscience,  the  doom  of  iniquity,  and  the  bless- 
edness of  righteousness  ;  it  weighs  all  that  can  be  said 
in  favor  of  the  moral  intuitions  of  the  human  soul ; 


22 

and  then  it  fortifies  all  these  testimonies  by  bringing 
up  the  facts  which  prove  that  the  atoms  of  the  globe, 
the  particles  of  matter  which  compose  the  human 
frame,  the  incidents  of  mortal  existence,  and  even 
the  invisible  thoughts,  purposes,  determinations  and 
deeds  of  men  are  strung  on  the  iron  thread  of  law. 
In  a  word.  Liberalism  multiplies  the  sanctions  of 
rectitude,  extends  its  dominion,  gives  certainty  and 
absoluteness  to  its  sway.  Letting  the  old  readings 
stand,  it  offers  new  readings  in  infinite  variety,  bring- 
ing the  awful  verities  home  to  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men,  to  Bible  readers  and  to  such  as  never 
open  a  sacred  book,  and  making  scorners  feel  that 
there  is  no  escape  from  the  judgment  that  is  decreed 
to  all  deeds,  good  or  evil.  In  doing  this,  Liberalism 
makes  new  classifications  of  virtues  and  vices,  new 
definitions  of  good  and  evil.  It  erects  natural 
standards  of  judgment  in  place  of  conventional  and 
artificial  ones,  abolishes  a  host  of  technicalities,  breaks 
up  the  coverts  where  certain  iniquities  have  been 
hidden  by  priests  from  human  eyes,  and  brings  forth 
into  the  light  of  approving  day  troops  of  scared 
virtues  that  have  been  compelled  to  flee  away  and 
hide  themselves  from  the  gaze  of  men.  It  abolishes 
the  monopoly  that  the  priesthood  has  claimed  to  de- 
cide what  is  good  and  what  evil,  and  judges  all  actions 
and  principles  by  the  same  unvarying  rule.  A  task 


23 

tliis  of  the  utmost  delieacy  and  (lifficulty.  not  to  be 
entrusted  to  the  lawless  passions  of  men  and  women 
who  are  merely  drtermined  to  deliver  themselves 
from  restraint  and  riot  intlie  indulgence  of  instinctive 
license,  but  to  be  taken  in  hand  hy  thoufj'htful  people 
who  clothe  their  minds  with  the  sanctities  of  good- 
ness. A  task,  if  there  l)e  one.  to  be  taken  uj)  by  those 
who  still  preserve  the  traditions  of  rectitude  that  the 
holiest  have  honored.  It  is  a  task  that  Liberalism 
takes  up  in  the  name  of  religion,  and  in  performing 
it,  it  calls  for  the  sympathy  and  assistance  of  all  who 
have  practical  faith  in  efforts  to  promote  the  higher 
culture  of  mankind. 

There  remains  unmentioned  yet  one  ground  on 
which  liberalism  puts  foi'th  a  claim  to  the  allegiance 
of  earnest  men.  It  is  the  only  system  of  religion  that 
frankly  confesses  that  the  realm  of  truth  is  still,  to 
practical  intent,  an  unexplored  tract,  and  that  looks 
for  fresh  accessions  of  knowledge  on  every  important 
sul)ject  from  Cjuarters  at  present  all  Init  unknown. 
Every  other  system  of  religion  forecloses  truth,  claims 
now  to  possess,  if  not  actually  all  there  is.  yet  the 
best  there  is  :  all  that  is  of  prime  importance,  and  the 
secret  of  that  which  is  unessential.  Every  system 
makes  bold  to  declare  wliat  is  and  what  is  not  worth 
having  :  every  system  has  the  effrontery  to  say  how 
much  it  is  safe,  and  how  much  it  is  unsafe  to  enter- 


24 

tain.  Romanism  arrogates  infallibility  for  the  Church. 
Protestantism  sets  up  a  title  of  infallibility  for  the 
bible.  Both  declare,  with  unflinching  emphasis,  that 
revelation  is  closed,  and  that  there  is  only  danger  in 
straying  beyond  the  distinctly  marked  lines  of  text 
and  doctrine.  The  walls  of  the  Holy  City  bristle 
with  guns  pointed  at  the  men  who  would  bring  in 
sheaves  of  corn  gathered  in  other  fields.  The  most 
liberal  of  the  Protestant  sects  adhere  to  certain  sacred 
landmarks  of  definition  which  must  not  be  disturbed. 
Liberalism  alone  keeps  every  question  open,  ex- 
pecting more  light  to  break,  not  from  "  God's  Word," 
— the  scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments, 
— but  from  the  word  that  is  proclaimed  in  the  visible 
and  invisible  universe.  It  seeks  the  truth ;  seeks  it 
by  the  aid  of  reason ;  seeks  it  with  the  clue  of  knowl- 
edge ;  seeks  it  in  every  sphere  where  it  may  lie.  It 
attacks  with  courage  the  old  problems,  looking  for 
new  solutions.  It  abates  no  jot  of  hope  that  it  may 
attain  to  something  like  knowledge  on  the  matters 
that  have  always  attracted  and  fascinated  the  human 
mind.  Not  doubting,  but  believing,  it  stands  on  the 
watch  with  unsleeping  eye,  questioning  the  sentinels 
on  the  hill-tops  and  the  watchers  in  the  valley,  and 
crying,  with  untiring  importunity,  "Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  ?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  "  This 
attitude    of  the  earnest  truth-seeker   is   extremely 


25 

noble.  It  is  an  attitude  that  only  the  few  perhaps 
can  take  in  perfect  fidelity,  but  the  few  who  do  take 
it  are  worthy  of  all  recognition  and  honor.  The  pur- 
suit of  truth,  simple  and  unalloyed,  has  engaged 
the  highest  minds  of  the  race,  and  has  crowned  them 
with  everlasting  dignity.  To  love  the  truth,  to  hope 
for  it,  pray  for  it,  labor  for  it,  serve  it,  is  the  mark 
of  the  superior  mind.  To  be  indifferent  to  the  truth, 
to  be  a  skeptic  towards  it,  to  wish  to  shut  it  up  in 
formulas,  is  the  mark  of  the  inferior  mind.  Great 
men  believe  that  truth  is  still  to  be  found.  None 
but  small  men  believe  that  they  have  found  it.  For 
to  believe  that  truth  is  yet  to  be  found,  implies  im- 
agination and  aspiration,  feeling  for  the  grandeur  of 
the  world,  a  sense  of  larger  relations  with  unseen 
things,  that  keep  the  mind  up  above  the  meaner 
levels  of  experience.  We  are  enriched  less  by  what 
we  have  than  by  what  we  hope  to  have — what  we 
believe  to  be  attainable.  Even  if  the  eternal  prob- 
lems of  being  are  insoluble,  it  is  ennobling  to  try 
to  solve  them.  Though  there  be  questions  that  never 
can  be  answered,  to  ask  them  is  not  otherwise  than 
exalting.  To  ask  and  never  be  answered,  is  more 
honorable  than  never  to  ask.  Liberalism  asks,  hop- 
ing and  expecting  to  be  answered,  and  that  its  ask- 
ing may  be  answered,  it  prays  for  the  consenting 
mind  and  purpose  of  emancipated  men. 


PAYING  DEBTS. 


An  apostle  writing  to  a  3'oung  man  advises  him 
to  practice  together  both  godliness  and  honesty,  say- 
ing that  the  combination  of  the  two  was  great  gain. 
The  two  virtues  seem  to  be  very  far  apart.  Godli- 
ness is  godlikeness,  the  height  of  spiritual  attainment ; 
honesty  is  paying  debts.  The  godly  man  is  one  who 
lives  in  divine  ideas ;  the  honest  man  is  one  who 
lives  in  human  relations.  The  godly  man  dwells  in 
soul  above  the  world;  the  honest  man  dwells  in 
duties  in  the  world.  The  godly  man  is  the  man  of 
devotion,  of  saintliness.  The  honest  man  is  the  nuin 
of  business.  Godliness  is  supposed  to  be  so  mue-li 
more  than  honesty,  that  godly  men  sometimes  ex- 
cuse themselves  from  being  honest ;  and  honesty  is 
supposed  to  be  so  much  less  than  godliness,  that 
honest  men  frequently  come  short  of  being  godly. 

But  at  bottom  the  association  of  the  words  is 
just.     Tracing  the  word  "honesty"  to  its  root,  \\'e 


find  that  the  quality  it  expresses  does  not  fall  so  far 
below  the  quality  expressed  by  the  word  "  godli- 
ness "  as  most  imagine.  The  word  is  Latin.  Open 
the  Latin  dictionary  at  "  honestas  "  and  you  find 
these  definitions:  "honorable  character,  honorable 
feeling,  dignity,  goodness,  virtue,  high  reputation, 
beauty,  ornament,  grace."  Now,  open  the  English 
dictionary  at  "  honesty "  and  you  will  find  strictly 
analogous  meanings  given  to  the  word :  "  an  up- 
right disposition,  to  conform  to  justice  and  cor- 
rect moral  principle  in  all  social  transactions ;  fair- 
ness, candor,  truth,  sincerity."  In  English  literature 
the  word  bears  these  fine  senses.  It  is  a  phrase  of 
nobility  in  Shakspeare.  The  honest  woman  is  the 
pure  hearted  woman ;  the  honest  man  is  the  clear 
souled  man.  When  Pope  wrote  the  line — 
An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God, 
he  had  in  view  something  more  than  the  man  who 
paid  his  bills. 

But  as  every  age  has  its  characteristic  virtue,  so 
every  age  has  its  own  characteristic  interpretations 
of  virtue.  Words  take  their  significance  from  the 
people  that  use  them,  bear  the  impress  of  the  minds 
that  pass  them  from  mouth  to  mouth.  It  was  in  a 
social  world  very  different  from  ours  that  the  word 
"honesty"  bore  the  fine  stamp  we  have  seen  put 
upon  it  by  the  lexicographers ;  it  was  a  world  of 


princes  and  nobles,  'of  gentlemen  and  ladies ;  a  world 
in  which  intelligence  and  breeding  set  the  standard 
of  conduct  for  a  small  but  select  circle,  in  which 
personal  honor  ranked  high  and  loyalty  was  a  qual- 
ity of  price  ;  a  world  of  individual  dignity  and  per- 
sonal greatness  more  than  ours  is ;  a  world  of  aristo- 
cratic pride  and  circumstance  and  ceremony, 
wherein  "  the  people  "  were  of  comparatively  small 
account,  but  wherein  private  self-respect  touched  a 
loftier  mark. 

Ours  is  a  commercial  age  and  natm-ally  puts  com- 
mercial interpretations  on  its  words.  They  have,  if 
we  may  say  so,  a  commercial  value :  they  bear  the 
stamp  of  the  exchange,  the  trade  mark  of  the  factory. 
Articles  of  merchandise  are  called  "goods."  Prices 
are  styled  "  values."  The  question,  "  What  is  such 
a  man  worth? ''''  brings  an  answer  concerning  the 
amount  of  his  possessions.  The  "  good  man  "  is  the 
man  whose  means  are  sufficient,  whose  credit  is 
sound.  So  the  fine  old  word  "honesty"  has  come 
to  mean  with  us  paying  bills.  The  honest  man  is 
the  man  who  pays  his  bills  when  presented.  He^ay 
be  in  other  respects,  ignoble ;  he  may  be  in  this  re- 
spect, close,  reluctant,  literal  and  legal,  keeping  within 
the  strictest  lines  of  mercantile  obligations,  paying 
only  at  the  last  moment,  and  paying  not  a  cent  more 
-than  the  statute  requires,  keeping  ever  on  the  safe 


side  of  fraud,  but  barely  clearing  the  line  that 
divides  knavery  from  integrity.  Still  if  he  does  clear 
that  line,  if  he  does  keep  on  that  safe  side,  if  he  does 
stop  short  of  cheating,  if  he  does  pay  his  bills  when 
he  must,  he  passes  for  an  honest  man.  We  are  some- 
times tempted. to  think  that  the  honesty  is  enhanced 
in  reputation  by  the  severity  that  accompanies  it, 
taking  an  extra  fineness  of  quality  from  the  crabbed 
reluctance  which  shows  how  much  Jit  costs  to  pay. 
The  money  that  "  comes  hard "  is  thought  to  be 
the  "  hardest  money  ; "  to  give  it  is  a  kind  of  mar- 
tyrdom. Like  the  water  struck  from  the  rock  that 
otherwise  blisters  the  air  and  promotes  drought,  it  is 
more  precious  than  bubbling  fountains  and  pouring 
streams,  that  are  sources  of  perennial  verdure. 

Let  us  look  then  at  this  matter  of  paying  debts ; 
let  us  see  if  it  does  not  imply  all  that  the  old  virtue 
of  honesty  implied  ;  let  us  see  if  by  weighing  it  care- 
fully we  cannot  in  it  recover  the  noble  lessons  of  a 
nobler  society.  Let  us  take  the  subject  on  its  low- 
est plane.  Even  here  prospects  of  magnificence 
open^.  Honesty,  we  say,  is  payment  for  value  given, 
or  services  rendered;  payment  in  money.  But  what 
is  money?  A  symbol.  A  symbol  of  what  ?  Of  in- 
trinsic and  essential  value.  Money  represents  labor, 
toil,  physical  strength,  acquired  skill,  natural  capac- 
ity, wealth   of  accumulated  power,  knowledge,  self- 


command,  fine  tact,  ingenuity,  feeling,  purpose,  dis- 
ciplined will.  'In  a  word,  it  represents  life — muscu- 
lar, nervous,  mental,  moral,  intellectual,  spiritual, 
life  temporal,  life  eternal.  The  l\fe  blood  is  in  it. 
It  is  a  symbol  of  elevation,  devotion,  sacrifice,  for 
all  these  qualities  are  in  the  worth  it  stands  for.  The 
rags  of  which  the  paper  is  made  are  the  worn  out, 
toil-stained  garments  of  poverty ;  the  gold  the  mint 
turns  out  so  bright  and  sharply  cut,  is  dug  from 
mountains  that  have  been  melted  in  fervent  heat,  and 
have  in  their  veins  the  redness  of  the  original  fire. 
Money  stands  for  all  that  money  will  buy,  luxuries, 
comforts,  necessities,  food,  clothing,  shelter,  cleanli- 
ness, health,  education,  literature,  art,  society,  the 
glory  of  nature  in  summer,  the  advantages  of  civili- 
zation in  winter,  the  countless  benefits  of  society,  the 
best  physicians  in  sickness,  the  warmest  consolation 
in  death,  release  from  the  heaviest  of  life's  burdens, 
the  privilege  of  beneficence,  the  honor  of  mankind. 
He  that  makes  money,  makes  it  first  or  last  from  these 
substances ;  he  that  gives  money,  gives  substantially 
substances  of  no  less  price  than  these. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  pay  debts  when  money  is 
easily  earned,  is  plenty,  and  can  be  parted  with,  leav- 
ing the  usual  resources  undiminished ;  when  it  carries 
away  with  it  no  private  indulgence  or  personal  grati- 
fication ;  when,  in  a  word,  it  is   not  missed.     But 


8 

when  money  is  scarce  and  comes  hard,  when  it  is  hot 
and  sweaty  with  toil,  and  is  not  dismissed  from  the 
pocket  without  a  pang  of  reflection  that  one  must 
have  a  smaller  house,  or  forego  the  needed  luxury  of 
warm  clothing,  or  give  up  the  country  excursion,  or 
refuse  some  benefit  the  children  are  pining  for,  or 
pass  by  the  bookstore  where  lies  a  long  coveted 
treasure,  or  the  library  where  a  subscription  is  de- 
manded, then  to  pay  it  away  rises  to  the  dignity  of  a 
virtue.  There  are  circumstances  that  render  the 
payment  of  debts  noble  and  even  sublime ;  that  as- 
sociate it  with  valor,  devotion  and  sacrifice ;  such 
valor  as  the  soldier  displays  on  a  desperate  field,  such 
devotion  as  the  knight  might  have  showed  to  his  liege 
lord,  such  sacrifice  as  a  noble  might  have  exhibited 
in  tKe  cause  of  his  king,  or  a  saint  in  the  service  of 
his  God.  When  a  man — such  a  man  as  it  has  been 
my  privilege  to  know — ^having  failed  in  an  enterprise 
to  which  he  had  given  all  he  possessed,  withdrawing 
from  the  scenes  of  his  successes  and  the  associations 
of  his  happier  days,  lives  in  obscurity  and  discomfort, 
and  labors  for  years  at  the  merest  drudgery,  till  he 
has  saved  enough  to  meet  his  full  obligations,  and 
only  emerges  into  social  life  when  he  can  do  so  with 
perfectly  clean  hands  and  a  reputation  unsoiled,  a 
deed  is  done  as  lofty  as  was  ever  performed  by  peer 
or  paladin.     Such  a  man  is  a  worthy  successor  of  the 


9 

knights  that  gathered  about  King  Arthur's  Round 
Table.  He  has  only  paid  his  bills  to  be  sure ;  but  he 
has  paid  them  with  his  life  blood,  with  the  homage 
of  his  soul.  In  discharging  that  one  class  of  obliga- 
tions he  has  in  spirit  paid  veneration  to  every  class. 
But  by  as  much  as  honesty  within  such  condi- 
tions is  noble,  dishonesty  within  ordinary  conditions 
is  ignoble.  If  the  man  who  pays  his  debts  when  he 
might  plead  inability  is  a  hero,  the  man  who  does  not 
pay  his  debts  wh'en  he  can  plead  no  inability  merits 
the  opposite  name  of  poltroon.  He  is  the  soldier 
who  deserts  his  flag,  the  noble  who  abandons  his 
prince,  the  knight  who  turns  traitor  to  his  queen. 
That  such  a  one — though  in  other  respects  amiable 
and  kindly,  should  lose  his  place  in  the  commercial 
world,  should  forfeit  credit,  confidence  and  esteem, 
is  but  just;  that  society  should  withdraw  from  him 
its  respect,  should  regard  his  word  as  so  much  breath, 
his  bond  as  so  much  waste  paper,  should  cast  him 
out  of  its  service,  and  refuse  to  him  a  share  in  the 
transactions  for  and  by  which  men  live,  is  but  fair. 
For  the  offense  is  grave.  The  man  takes  life  and 
renders  no  return  in  kind ;  he  allows  others  to  work 
for  him  and  be  the  poorer  for  doing  it.  He  spends 
on  pleasure  what  others  have  earned  with  pain.  He 
squanders  in  idleness  what  others  have  amassed  with 
bitter  toil.     He  takes  food  from  the  table  of  the  hun- 


10 

gry,  clothing  from  the  back  of  the  naked,  fire  from 
the  hearthstones  of  the  cold,  shelter  from  the  bodies 
of  the  unprotected,  and  gayly  tosses  it  all  off  in  a 
bumper  of  champagne  pr  blows  it  away  in  a  cloud  of 
cigar  smoke.  He  builds  his  house  on  the  ruins  of 
good  faith,  and  erects  his  pavilion  on  the  ashes  of 
human  hopes.  He  uses  the  heart-strings  of  human 
beings  as  harp-strings  for  his  gay  songs,  and  revives 
the  tradition  of  the  Roman  emperor  who  amused 
himself  with  his  fiddle  while  the  wealth  of  the  impe- 
rial city  was  consuming  in  flame,  and  her  magnifi- 
cences were  dropping  into  dust.  It  is  the  habit  of 
certain  people  to  make  light  of  offenses  against  hon- 
esty, as  it  is  the  habit  of  the  same  class  of  people  to 
make  light  of  offenses  against  chastity  or  sobriety,  as 
if  they  were  a  pardonable  infirmity  to  gay  and  ge- 
nial natures.  It  is  an  evil  habit,  for  it  encourages 
trifling  with  the  gravest  interests ;  and  it  is  none  the 
more  innocent  for  being  thoughtless,  for  thougtless- 
ness  undermines  the  intellectual  basis  of  virtue,  and 
leaves  nothing  of  enduring  worth  at  last. 

But  debts  cannot  be  paid  in  money  unless  the 
money  carries  something  of  its  deepest  significance 
with  it;  and  in  this  case  it  is  not  the  coin  or  the 
paper  that  pays,  but  the  heart  the  payer  gives  with 
the  gold  or  the  paper.  And  very  few  indeed  are  the 
debts  that  can  be  paid  without  these.    Are  there  any 


11 

that  can  be?  The  people  that  actually  serve  us 
from  day  to  day  in  menial  capacities,  our  domestics, 
chore-men,  household  drudges,  after  their  fashion 
put  life  into  their,  service,  give  such  hearts  as  they 
have,  and  may  rightfully  claim  a  return  of  life.  As 
I  think  of  what  such  do  give,  over  and  above  the 
labor  of  their  handiwork — how  they  give  their  wil- 
lingness, their  interest,  often  their  zeal;  as  I  think 
of  their  limited  lot,  their  restricted  advantages,  their 
engrossed  lives,  their  dim  and  doubtful  career,  their 
scrimped  and  fore-shortened  existence,  I  feel  as  if  we 
did  not  adequately  pay  them  when  we  gave  them, 
ever  so  promptly,  their  monthly  wages.  I  feel  that 
they  have  a  claim  on  our  hearts  too,  for  kind  and 
gentle  consideration,  for  sympathy  and  interest. 
They  that  put  conscience  into  their  work  have  a 
right  to  receive  conscience  in  their  pay,  and  they 
that  put  grace  into  their  work  are  entitled  to  receive 
grace  in  their  reward.  The  good  servant  is  entitled 
to  service.     Life  for  life  is  the  rule. 

And  how  much  life  is  put  into  ordinary  work  ! 
How  few  realize  the  extent  of  obligations  that  is  in- 
curred in  the  natural  course  of  living !  The  sim- 
plest human  relations,  brought  to  this  test,  reveal 
grand  responsibilities.  The  relation  of  parent  and 
child,  for  instance,  is  one  that,  if  met  in  the  spirit  of 
plain  honesty,  becomes  overcharged  with  indebted- 


12 

ness.  To  parents  who  are  in  any  wise  faithful 
and  tender,  children  owe  a  debt  they  can  never  fully 
repay.  The  above  qualification  is  necessary,  for  pa- 
rents are  not  universally  faithful  or  tender.  The  ex- 
istence such  give  to  their  children  maybe  no  boon  but 
a  curse.  Few,  probably,  can  think  of  their  parents 
with  unmixed  gratitude,  for  physical  and  moral  in- 
firmities come  from  them,  diseases  or  tendencies  to 
disease,  drawbacks  and  disqualifications  which  at 
some  time  we  remember  painfully  and  with  feelings 
of  reproach.  But  in  ordinary  circumstances  the 
child  is  indebted  to  the  parent  for  a  thousand  things 
that  may,  in  some  manner,  be  repaid,  if  not  in  food, 
clothing,  shelter,  and  other  external  support,  still  in 
consideration,  patience,  care,  tender  solicitude.  The 
precept,  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,"  is  one 
of  the  oldest  and  most  wide  spread  in  the  world.  All 
the  Bibles  lay  emphasis  on  it,  and  regard  the  duty 
they  enjoin  on  children  towards  their  fathers  and 
mothers  as  simple  indebtedness  for  benefits  bestowed. 
The  Hebrew  Scriptures,  of  every  age  of  the  nation, 
are  particularly  strong  on  this  point.  The  Talmud 
contains  beautiful  legends  in  illustration  of  it.  We 
read  that  the  aged  mother  of  Rabbi  Tarphon  came 
down  on  the  Sabbath  to  walk  in  her  yard :  the  Rabbi 
seeing  her  go  out,  rose,  followed  her,  and  put  his 
hands  under  her  feet  till  she  re-entered  the  house. 


13 

On  her  sick  bed  she  told  of  this  to  the  wise  men  who 
came  to  console  her.  Thereupon  they  said  to  her  : 
"  If  he  had  done  for  thee  a  thousand  times  more,  he 
had  not  done  half  what  the  Scriptures  command." 
If  sons  and  daughters,  when  tempted  to  criticise 
their  parents  for  some  fault,  or  to  laugh  at  them  for 
some  infirmity,  would  stop  long  enough  to  recall  the 
benefits  they  have  conferred,  the  sacrifices  they  have 
made,  the  life  offerings  they  have  brought  again  and 
again,  they  would  be  ashamed  of  the  dishonesty  that 
could  repudiate  such  indebtedness.  In  multitudes 
of  cases,  a  complete  devotion  of  means  and  ability 
would  be  but  a  fair  return  for  gifts  bestowed. 

But  do  parents  owe  nothing  to  their  children? 
That  they  do  owe  much,  is  confessed  in  the  grief  felt 
at  their  loss ;  in  the  unwillingness  to  part  with  them 
on  any  terms,  or  for  any  cause,  even  when  they  are 
an  incumbrance  and  a  trouble.  The  mere  hope  and 
expectation  of  a  cliild  is  often  a  joy  so  intense  that 
no  pain  or  sorrow  bears  comparison  with  it.  The 
new  prospects  it  awakens,  the  new  emotions  it  stirs, 
the  new  affections  it  develops,  the  new  future  it  sug- 
gests, the  new  heavens  it  opens,  are  6f  themselves  an 
inestimable  boon.  Already,  before  it  is  born,  the 
child  has  laid  the  parent  under  an  obligation  that 
never  can  fully  be  discharged.  Through  children 
the  sweetest  sentiments  come,  if  they  come  at  all : 


14 

gratitude,  joy,  tenderness,  thankfulness  to  Provi- 
dence, trust  in  heaven.  To  how  many  they  disclose 
the  wealth  of  the  woman's  heart,  the  power  of  fidelity 
in  the  man's  will !  As  the  child  grows  up,  the  hope 
may  fade  ;  the  anticipation  may  be  balked ;  the  pros- 
pect may  be  clouded.  But  even  then,  the  remem- 
brance remains ;  the  original  gift  is  not  taken  away ; 
the  flower  of  infancy  is  fadeless  in  the  heart.  In  re- 
turn for  all  this,  honesty  requires  something  besides 
plum  cake  and  sugar.  It  requires  nurture,  tender- 
ness, respect,  discipline,  education,  culture.  What 
dishonesty  is  more  flagrant  than  negligence  or 
thoughtless  indulgence?  How  parents  cheat  their 
children  when  they  use  them  as  toys,  or  lavish  on 
them  the  wealth  of  their  caprice,  allow  them  to  be 
idle,  ignorant  and  wilful,  and  spoil  them  for  the  ex- 
istence to  which  they  have  introduced  them !  The 
precept :  "  children,  honor  your  parents,"  should  be 
supplemented  by  another :  "  parents,  honor  your 
children."  As  the  debt  is  not  all  on  one  side,  neither 
is  the  duty.  Parents  and  children  might  reasonably 
vie  with  each  other  ip  offices  of  good-will.  Of  course 
nothing  could  be  worse  than  the  establishment  of 
mercantile  relations  between  parents  and  children ; 
the  least  suggestion  of  such  a  relation  would  be  fatal 
to  the  spirit  that  should  exist  in  the  home.  But 
there  surely  can  be  no  harm,  there  can  be  nothing 


15 

but  good  in  the  remembrance  of  bounties  conferred 
mutually,  and  responsibilities  mutually  shared.  If 
each  side  will  bear  in  mind  its  own  indebtedness, 
without  dwelling  on  that  of  the  other,  the  discharge 
of  it  would  be  a  joy,  and  the  existence  of  a  sordid 
feeling  would  be  impossible. 

We  hear  a  great  deal  about  the  debts  we  owe  to 
society,  and  nothing  shows  the  shallowness  of  the 
vulgar  notion  of  accountability  more  clearly  than  the 
tone  of  feeling  in  regard  to  these.  People  are  flip- 
pantly said  to  discharge  their  debts  to  society  when 
they  return  civilities  by  giving  a  certain  number  of 
dinners  parties  or  receptions,  leaving  a  certain  num- 
ber of  enamelled  pieces  of  pasteboard*  at  front  doors, 
and  completing  a  certain  round  of  social  visits,  as  if 
society  were  an  artificial  clique  or  coterie.  But  so- 
ciety lives  by  faith  and  charity.  The  protection  of 
life  and  character,  by  thousands  of  kind  offices, 
silently  performed,  is  its  boon  to  every  man  and 
woman,  and  honesty  consists  in  reciprocating  this 
kindness.  Honesty  demands  the  suppression  of  scan- 
dal, the  discouragement  of  evil  tongues,  forbearing 
comments  on  conduct,  and  generous  judgments  of 
character.  Even  along  the  surface  of  society  trickles 
the  life  blood  that  quickens  all  human  beings.  The 
charity  of  each  helps  the  welfare  of  all.  No  amount 
of  complaisance,  no  packs  of  cards,  though  piled  miles 


16 

high,  no  elaborate  dinners  and  suppers,  however 
costly  and  frequent,  will  discharge  the  first  items  of 
that  vast  debt  which  every  civilized  being  incurs  by 
the  simple  fact  of  living  on  terms  of  civility  with 
fellow-men.  When  we  analyze  society,  and  consider 
the  separate  sums  that  are  due  to  the  different  orders 
of  men  that  compose  it,  the  aggregate  becomes  start- 
ling. Think  of  the  debt  that  all  orders  of  men,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  from  the  proudest  monarch 
to  the  poorest  subject  in  his  dominions,  owe  to  the 
farmer !  Think  of  the  debt  that  is  incurred  to  the 
mechanic  by  every,  one  that  uses  a  weapon,  a  tool,  a 
utensil  of  the  most  ordinary  kind !  By  what  agony 
and  bloody  sweat  the  smallest  article  of  use  has  been 
fashioned !  Does  the  fashionable  woman  ever  pay 
the  seamstress  for  the  stitches  her  weary  fingers  have 
put  into  the  ball  dress  ?  Gould  she  pay,  except  with 
tears  of  compassion  and  manna  from  the  heavenliest 
part  of  her  heart,  for  the  anguish  that  Hood  has  but 
feebly  described?  The  truth  is,  it  requires  imagina- 
tion and  sensibility  to  fathom  but  the  superficial 
depths  of  all  the  indebtedness  of  people  of  luxury 
who  never  knew  a  want,  to  the  people  of  want  who 
never  knew  a  luxury.  To  street  sweepers  and  scav- 
engers, and  the  wretched  purveyors  of  garbage,  the 
dainty  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  metropolis  are 
indebted  for  the  health  that  enables  them  to  enjoy. 


17 

and  the  beauty  that  enables  them  to  shine.  And  to 
meet  the  indebtedness  how  impossible,  yet  how  easy ! 
Impossible,  for  the  remuneration  in  money  might  be 
made  excessive,  without  recompensing  the  service ; 
easy,  for  kind  feeling  will  satisfy  all  demands.  A 
recognition  of  the  drudge's  humanity  would  go  far 
to  reconcile  him  to  the  bitterness  of  his  lot. 

"  Tliat  is  no  true  alms  which  the  hand  can  hold ; 

He  gives  notliing  but  worthless  gold. 
Who  gives  from  a  sense  of  duty. 

But  lie  who  gives  a  slender  mite, 

And  gives  to  that  whicli  is  out  of  sight, 
That  thread  of  the  all-sustaining  beauty 

Which  runs  through  all,  and  doth  all  unite — 

The  hand  cannot  clasp  the  whole  of  his  alms, 
■  The  heart  outstretches  its  eager  palms. 

For  a  God  goes  with  it,  and  makes  it  store 

To  the  soul  that  was  starving  in  darkness  before." 

Less  than  a  week  ago,  we  went  through  the  form 
of  confessing  an  indebtedness  to  Washington.-  But 
what  single  item  of  that  huge  indebtedness  was  dis- 
charged, or  is  discharged,  or  can  be  discharged,  by 
a  people  that  systematically  neglects  every  principle 
that  he  perilled  life  and  character  to  secure  ?  Modei-n 
office-seekers,  paying  tribute  of  praise  to  the  man 
who  would  never  accept  an  office  except  with  the 
purpose  to  fill  it  honorably,  and  never  kept  an  office 
a  day  after  it  became  possible  for  him  to  lay  it  down ! 
modern  office-holders  eel  ebrating  the  man  who  would 


18 

not  take  half  his  emoluments,  and  who  refused  a 
trust  to  one  perfectly  qualified  for  it,  because  he  was 
his  own  nephew ! 

The  fashion  of  paying  the  heaviest  debts  in  the 
lightest  words  is  of  great  antiquity,  but  it  is  no  more 
respectable  for  being  old.  It  has  always  been  the 
custom  to  pay  in  this  kind  of  coin  the  reformers  and 
regenerators  of  society,  the  men  who  have  removed 
popular  abuses,  abolished  organized  wrongs,  extir- 
pated long  seated  evils.  The  obligation  due  to  such 
as  these  is  rarely  acknowledged  in  their  generation, 
as  is  not  strange,  seeing  that  their  work  involves  ap- 
parently more  loss  than  gain,  and  achieves  more  mis- 
chief than  benefit.  But  long  after  they  are  dead,  and 
the  worth  of  their  deed  is  confessed,  and  the  bitter 
words  of  execration  are  exchanged  for  the  sweet  words 
of  eulogy,  and  the  brass  that  has  rattled  and  brayed 
against  them  is  changed  into  monuments  over  their 
graves,  the  deep  debt  is  neither  admitted  nor  dis- 
charged. The  wrongs  they  fought  against  are  com- 
mitted in  other  forms,  the  evils  they  struck  at  are 
cherished  under  other  guises,  the  idols  they  at- 
tempted to  overthrow  are  worshipped  under  other 
names.  See  how  Christendom  pays  its  debt  to  Jesus 
— a  debt  admitted  to  be  of  the  most  unquestionable 
and  enduring  kind.  He  is  credited  with  having 
rendered  to  mankind  services  than  which  no  greater 


19 

or  more  essential  can  be  conceived ;  with  having 
brought  a  revelation  of  pure  truth  from  the  supreme 
source  of  truth ;  with  having  made  an  autljoritative 
declaration  of  God's  purposes  to  the  human  race ; 
with  having  reconciled  the  Deity  with  his  creatures 
by  the  sacrifice  of  Himself;  with  having  abolished 
the  substantial  evil  in  human  nature ;  with  having 
rescued  all  men  from  the  danger  of  everlasting  per- 
dition, and  opened  to  all  men  the  prospect  of  ever- 
lasting felicity ;  with  having  brought  the  divine 
sympathy  close  to  mortal  hearts  in  their  sorrow.  To 
discharge  an  obligation  like  this  would,  of  course,  be 
impossible ;  it  is  such  a  debt  as  cannot,  from  the 
nature  of  things,  be  paid  in  kind.  But  this  much  is 
certain.  They  who  acknowledge  it  do  not  pay  it  by 
continually  saying  how  large  it  is,  by  forever  telling 
him,  as  he  sits  on  his  cloudy  throne,  how  impossible 
it  will  be  ever  to  pay  it,  by  pleading  poverty  and 
bankruptcy,  by  uttering  honied  language  of  praise 
in  prayer  or  hymn  ;  they  certainly  are  not  paying  it 
while  they  maintain  the  very  institutions  against 
which  he  thundered  rebuke,  while  they  imitate  the 
very  people  who  put  him  to  death,  while  they  adhere 
to  the  ideas  he  combated  and  the  rules  he  discarded. 
There  are  services  that  cannot  be  returned  to  the 
creditor,  but  must  be  repaid  by  kindred  services  to  his 
.  representatives.      Jesus  had  this  principle  in  mind 


20 

when  he  said  :  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to  one 
of  these  little  ones — done  for  him  what  I  have  done 
for  you — je  have  done  it  unto  me." 

The  disposition  to  repudiate  obligations  seems  to 
be  innate  in  mankind  at  the  present  period  of  their 
moral  growth.  "  It  is  such  a  waste  of  money  to  pay 
bills  !  "  said  a  witty  woman  one  day  to  her  friend. 
Take  what  you  can  get,  without  paying  for  it ;  if 
you  must  pay,  pay  no  more  than  you  cannot  help  ; 
to  obtain  the  largest  extension  of  credit,  to  reduce  the 
debt  to  the  smallest  sum,  appears  to  be  the  accepted 
rule  among  men.  The  commercial  world  fixes  limits 
to  this  kind  of  performance  ;  but  the  social  world 
assigns  none.  The  debts  that  cannot  be  reduced  to 
precise  money  value  are  paid  only  so" far  as  they  can 
be  so  far  reduced.  Thus  teachers  never  receive 
their  dues.  They  render  to  the  community  the 
costliest  of  services ;  they  give  the  results  of 
study,  thougkt,  culture,  faith ;  they  remove  ignor- 
ance,  dispel  superstition,  call  into  active  exist- 
ence the  intellectual  powers,  put  men  and  women 
in  possession  of  their  rational  faculties  ;  the  higher 
orders  of  them  are  illuminators,  cheerers,  comforters, 
interpreters  of  providence,  communicators  of  the 
holy  spirit  of  moral  life.  The  value  of  these  men 
has  been  acknowledged  by  the  discerning  of  all  ages. 
The  Jewish  Talmud  says :  "  The  world  is  saved  by 


21  • 

the  breath  of  the  school  children ; "  "A  scholar  is 
greater  than  a  prophet ; "  "  You  should  revere  the 
teacher  even  more  than  the  father.  The  latter  only 
brought  you  into  this  world,  the  former  indicates  the 
way  to  the  next."  "  Even  for  the  rebuilding  of  the 
temple  the  schools  must  not  be  interrupted."  "  Je- 
rusalem was  destroyed  because  men  neglected  the 
instruction  of  the  young."  And  yet  no  class  of 
servants  is  so  poorly  paid  as  the  teachers ;  and  in 
proportion  to  the  fineness  of  their  work  the  pay  de- 
creases. The  most  ideal  instructors  are  the  most 
scantily  remunerated.  The  ideal  nature  of  all  obli- 
gation is'  yet  far  from  being  understood. 

This  is  startlingly  revealed  to  us  in  the  treatment 
of  teachers  who  are  women.  Let  it  be  admitted  that 
good  reasons  are  assigned,  in  some  cases  at  least,  for 
the  lower  scale  of  remuneration  conceded  to  women. 
Let  their  physical  infirmity  be  taken  into  account ; 
the  possibility  of  interruption  by  marriage,  the  blur- 
ring of  purpose  and  the  unsteadiness  of  motive 
under  the  greater  or  less  expectancy  of  marriage  ; 
the  diminished  perfection  of  work  from  the  same 
causes,  and  the  actual  diminution  of  its  market  value 
in  consequence  ;  admit  all  this :  still  it  remains  true 
that  women  work  with  more  delicate  organizations, 
that  work  draws  on  them  more  exhaustively,  tells  on 
them  more  severely,  costs  them  more  in  pain  of  body 


22 

and  effort  of  will,  more  acutely  tries  their  sensibilities, 
hardens  and  coarsens  them  more  quickly.  "When 
they  give  it  they  give  more  with  it  than  men  do,  and 
therefore  for  work  of  the  same  quality,  supposing  it 
to  be  of  the  same  quality,  should  in  justice  be  paid 
more. 

There  is  one  class  of  teachers  of  whom  delicacy 
forbids  me  to  speak.  I  mean  teachers  of  philosophical 
and  ethical  truth,  teachers  of  religion  as  they  are 
called.  Were  I  a  layman,  as  virtually  I  am,  having 
few  connections  with  members  of  my  profession, 
being  entirely  separated  from  the  ecclesiastical  and 
dogmatical  order  of  priests,  and  wholly  outside  of 
the  divinely  commissioned  order  of  pastors — were  I 
a  layman,  with  the  knowledge  I  have  of  ministers,  I 
could  plead  earnestly  in  behalf  of  a  class  of  men  who 
do  a  great  deal  more  work  than  they  have  credit  for, 
and  render  to  society  more  essential  services  than 
are  ever  requited.  But  this,  is  a  subject  I  must  not 
touch.  My  purpose  has  been  merely  to  establish 
and  illustrate  the  principle  that  debts  cannot  be  re- 
duced to  figures,  that  obligation  is  an  ideal  thing, 
that  life  alone  can  pay  for  life. 

Thus  regarded,  it  would  seem  as  if  no  obligation 
could  ever  be  paid  at  all.  Nor  could  it  if  it  must 
be  discharged  literally  and  in  kind.  Fortunately  the 
soul  of  obligation  is  satisfied,  perhaps  not  on  easier 


23 

terms,  but  certainly  on  terms  less  intricate  and  cum- 
brous. A  cordial  dispositit)n  goes  far  to  repay  ser- 
vice, when  no  other  compensation  can  l)e  offered. 
A  kind  word,  a  friendly  thought,  even  a  sunny  smile 
have  an  appreciable  value  when  they  come  from  the 
heart.  Yes,  a  sincere  purpose  to  be  just  and  kind 
in  every  relation  wipes  out  the  heaviest  debts,  and 
cancels  the  weightiest  obligations.  To  wish  to  be 
even  with  mankind  is  a  great  thing ;  indeed  it  is 
everything,  because  even  with  mankind  no  one  ever 
was,  or  ever  will  be.  To  be  grateful  for  service  that 
otherwise  than  by  gratitude  cannot  be  repaid,  is 
compensation  of  the  most  substantial  kind.  Is  any- 
thing more  needed  than  a  fine  intellectual  perception 
of  the  indebtedness  that  exists  between  the  various 
classes  and  conditions  of  men,  a  frank  and  hearty  re- 
cognition of  the  fact  that  all  are  debtors,  and  all  are 
creditors ;  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  debtor  and 
a  creditor  class ;  that  mutual  exchange,  fair  give  and 
take,  is  the  rule ;  that  if  an  attempt  were  made  to 
balance  accounts,  to  adjust  and  apportion  merit,  to 
decide  who  gave  most  and  who  received  most,  what 
contribution  is  of  most  value,  and  what  of  least,  what 
talent  might  be  the  better  spared — such  an  attempt 
must  of  necessity  fail,  for  the  reason  that  every  con- 
tribution is  needed,  and  that  in  some  respects  each 
contribution  has  an  indispensable  quality  of  its  own 


24 

which  no  other  can  make  compensation  for  ;  is  any- 
thing more  important  for  society  at  large,  or  in  small, 
than  such  a  recognition  as  this  ?  Would  it  not  do 
much  to  reconcile  feuds,  allay  enmities,  draw  op- 
posing factions  together,  and  fill  the  gulfs  that  yawn 
between  the  so-called  interests  of  parties  and  com- 
munities? Every  payment  of  a  debt,  even  the  most 
trivial  and  incidental,  implies  a  confession  of  the 
general  law  of  indebtedness.  Let  it  be  understood 
that  when  no  bill  is  presented,  a  debt  may  still  re- 
main uncancelled,  and  the  spirit  of  humanity  is 
awakened,  that  will  satisfy  all  claims. 

Thus  honesty,  which  is  a  rough  and  crude  virtue, 
as  ordinarily  interpreted,  the  mere  rudiment  of  virtue, 
flowers  out  in  magnificent  forms.  The  tree  that  is 
planted  in  the  soil  of  common  integrity,  overshadows 
human  homes,  and  spreads  its  branches  in  the  skies. 


INTERESTS: 

MATERIAL  AND  SPIRITUAL. 

My  theme  this  morning  is  the  material  and  spirit- 
ual side  of  what  we  call  interests,  or  material  and 
spiritual  interests,  as  it  is  more  usual  to  speak.  The 
revival  of  religion  with  which  so  many  are  concerned 
at  present,  has  for  its  object  the  revival  of  interest  in 
spiritual  things,  in  things  unseen  and  eternal,  in 
states  of  mind  and  feeling.  Rightly  apprehended  all 
good  people  have  an  interest  in  high  things  and  hold 
them  to  be  ever  the  supreme  objects  of  interest.  All 
who  think  with  any  seriousness  about  human  life  ;  all 
who  value  character ;  all  who  prize  solid  happiness, 
people  of  mature  experience,  not  "  religious  "  people 
in  the  technical  sense,  not  moralists  only,  but  teach- 
ers, educators,  friends  of  culture  of  every  opinion  and 
-balling,  unite  in  maintaining  the  supremacy  of  these 


interests,  however  in  detail  they  may  differ  in  regard 
to  the  forms  they  assume.  The  contrast  between 
things  material  and  things  spiritual  is  felt  to  be  real, 
though  it  be  left  indefinite.  The  materialist  himself, 
after  his  manner,  admits  it  if  he  be  a  thinker  ;  for 
the  thinker  believes  in  thought,  and  thought  is  im- 
material :  it  can  neither  be  weighed  nor  measured. 
Good  men,  they  who  put  goodness  above  intelligence, 
deplore  the  lack  of  interest  in  spiritual  things,  that  is, 
in  goodness,  as  the  most  distressing  lack  of  all,  and 
work  hard  to  supply  it  by  changing  the  drift  of  de- 
sire, by  creating  sympathy  with  objects  of  purely  hu- 
man concern,  by  increasing  knowledge,  the  taste  for 
higher  literature,  love  of  art  whether  in  form  or  color, 
of  music,  of  social  affection,  of  social  reform.  To  lift 
people  above  the  brute  level  is  the  aim  of  all  educa- 
tors. That  is  to  interest  them  in  spiritual  things. 
Human  things,  as  distinct  from  personal,  are  spiritual 
things ;  human  interests  as  distinct  from  private  are 
spiritual  interests. 

The  managers  of  a  religious  revival  do  not  how- 
ever regard  the  matter  in  this  light.  Their  concep- 
tion of  spiritual  interests  is  something  quite  different, 
and  until  we  understand  it  precisely  we  cannot  speak 
intelligently  on  the  subject.  It  is  they  who  fix  on 
spiritual  things  their  popular  meaning ;  it  is  they  who 
control  the  popular  sentiment  in  respect  to  them ;  we 


must  meet  them  on  their  ground,  before  we  can  in- 
vite any  to  join  us  on  ours. 

What  is  their  ground  ?  What  is  their  conception 
of  things  spiritual  ? 

Negatively,  things  spiritual  are  things  not  mate- 
rial, like  real  estate,  houses,  equipage,  furniture,  bank 
accounts,  dress,  food ;  they  are  things  that  cannot  be 
taken  to  market  in  wagons,  bought  and  sold  or  pass- 
ed from  hand  to  hand  as  merchandise  ;  things  which 
have  no  relations  with  time  and  space,  that  neither 
grow  old  with  years,  nor  shrink  with  age,  nor  suffer 
from  wear  and  tear ;  things  beyond  the  reach  of  ac- 
cident from  change  of  circumstances. 

Positively  speaking,  things  spiritual  are  things 
supposed  to  be  things  "  religious."  To  the  church- 
man, interest  in  spiritual  things  is  the  same  as  inter- 
est in  the  sacraments,  devotion  to  the  rites  and 
ceremonies  of  ecclesiastical  institution,  observance  of 
feasts  and  fasts,  passion  for  prayer  books  and  pilgrim- 
ages. With  the  "  evangelical "  protestant,  interest 
in  spiritual  things  means  interest  in  the  salvation  of 
the  soul  from  eternal  misery. 

To  reach  the  meaning  of  this  phrase,  "  The  salva- 
tion of  the  soul,"  we  must  probe  deeper.  The  Soul ; 
— what  is  that  supposed  to  be  ?  we  get  at  it  as  quickly 
and  as  closely  as  possible,  when  we  say  that  the  soul, 
according  to  our  "  evangelical "  friends,  is  that  portion 


of  the  human  being  which  puts  him  in  immediate 
concurrence  with  God,  and  is  the  organ  by  which  he 
appropriates  divine  influence.  It  is  the  medium  of 
communication  between  the  creature  and  the  Creator, 
between  the  recipient  and  the  dispenser  of  life  ;  the 
appropriator  of  heavenly  grace.  To  it  is  given  the 
rest,  the  illumination,  the  guidance,  the  power  of  the 
Supreme  Being ;  the  assurance  of  His  love,  the  pledge 
of  His  constancy,  the  sense  of  His  nearness.  The  dead 
soul  is,  in  the  common  apprehension,  the  soul  with- 
out perception  of  divine  realities,  or  hold  on  celestial 
truths.  The  live  soul  is  one  with  God ;  in  a  certain 
sense  it  is  God — its  life  is  "  hid  in  God."  Were  this 
all,  we  need  not  demur,  for  this  may  be  interpreted 
in  a  way  to  satisfy  the  most  unecclesiastical  and  un- 
theological  mind. 

But  our  "  evangelical  "  friend  goes  further.  He 
says  that  the  human  soul  has  no  natural  union  with 
God,  that  such  union  has  been  fatally  broken  and 
has  become  henceforth  impossible  of  renewal,  except 
on  condition  of  faith  in  Christ,  the  Redeemer,  the 
mediating  soul  between  the  human  and  the  divine. 
Interest  in  spiritual  things  means  therefore  interest 
in  Christ  and  his  mediation,  faith  in  his  appoint- 
ment, trust  in  his  sufficiency,  reliance  on  his  word. 

When  it  comes  to  this,  we  demur.  The  narrow- 
ness of  the  definition  limits  the  interest  in  spiritual 


things  to  a  peculiar  class  of  people  and  virtually  ab- 
solves from  all  duty  to  cherish  such  interests  the  great 
number  who  neither  belong  to  the  church,  nor  accept 
the  creed.  For  instance,  there  are  people  who  do  not 
believe,  or  who  say  they  do  not,  in  a  God  with  whom 
it  is  possible  to  hold  private  or  personal  relations- 
Have  spiritual  interests  no  meaning  to  such  as  these  ? 
can  the  so-called  atheist  have  no  interest  in  spiritual 
things  ?  can  they  have  none,  whose  God  is  infinite, 
the  unknown  and  the  unknowable  ?  Would  you  say 
of  John  Tyndal  or  Herbert  Spencer,  or  even  of 
Ludwig  Biichner  that,  for  them,  an  intelligible  in- 
terest in  spiiitual  things  was  something  too  absurd 
to  speak  of? 

There  are  many  thousands  of  people,  intelligent, 
high  toned,  excellent,  humane  people  too,  who  have 
no  faith  in  Christ  as  the  redeemer,  no  faith  in  any 
redeemer  at  all,  no  faith  in  any  necessity  for  a  re- 
deemer, no  belief  in  the  human  infirmity,  imbecility, 
sinfulness  that  calls  for  a  divine  redeemer ;  no  such 
sense  of  separation  from  the  source  of  life,  as  makes 
the  office  of  a  redeemer  reasonable ;  the  Jews,  for 
instance  —  the  Mohammedans,  the  rationalists,  are 
all  these  excused  from  taking  an  interest  in  spiritual 
things  ?  May  they  persuade  themselves  that  spiritual 
concerns  are  nothing  to  them,  and  may  they  be  justi- 
fied on  their  own   ground,  in  devoting  themselves 


entirely  to  things  earthly  and  gross,  to   self-indul- 
gence, self-aggrandisement,  self-display? 

Or,  again,  we  are  made  aware  often  of  the  exist- 
ence of  people  who  have  no  faith  in  the  peculiar 
and  overwhelming  issues  of  the  future  life  ;  who  do 
not  believe  that  the  supreme  concerns  of  humanity 
are  stored  up  there ;  that  death  marks  the  dividing 
boundary  that  separates  the  material  from  the  spirit- 
ual world ;  that  heaven  and  hell  lie  in  vast  compart- 
ments, on  the  other  side  of  the  grave  ;  that  essential 
happiness  or  misery  are  allotted  there  ;  in  a  word, 
that  spiritual  interests  are  the  interests  of  disem- 
bodied beings.  Are  these  people  to  be  excused  by 
their  opinions  from  all  interest  in  spiritual  things  ? 
Are  spiritual  concerns  of  no  consequence  to  them  ? 
Nay,  suppose  one  to  be  a  disbeliever  in  any  kind  of 
personal  immortality,  to  be  a  complete  skeptic  in 
regard  to  the  future  state  of  existence,  to  be  a  con- 
vinced advocate  of  the  doctrine  of  annihilation  at 
death.  Can  we  say  of  Am,  that  spiritual  interests 
are  not  of  his  concern  and  beyond  his  apprehension? 
Christian  believers  allow  themselves  to  talk  as  if  the 
spiritual  nature  of  man,  and  the  spiritual  meaning  of 
existence  absolutely  depended  on  the  belief  in  a 
future  state  of  being.  It  looks  sometimes  as  if  in 
their  judgment,  religion,  with  all  its  sanctity  and 
sweetness,  would  perish  if  the  wall  between  this  life 


9 

and  a  future  were  broken  down  and  both  worlds 
were  thrown  into  one ;  if  their  bottomless  hell  were 
filled  up,  or  its  fires  damped.  We  seem  to  be  en- 
couraged to  think  that  the  whole  intellectual  world 
would  tumble  into  chaos  if  the  theological  fiction  of 
perdition  were  discredited ;  that  saints  would  at 
once  be  confounded  with  sinners,  virtue  with  vice, 
good  with  evil,  the  angel  with  the  beast ;  that  Judas 
would  interchange  parts  with  Jesus,  if  the  black 
river  of  death  were  spanned  by  natural  bridges,  or 
made  fordable  by  natural  powers.  Truly  a  most 
perilous  position !  A  position  that  seems  to  justify 
that  stubborn  indifference  to  spiritual  things  which 
is  so  deplorable  a  feature  in  ordinary  life.  What  is 
more  usual  than  to  meet  people  who  consider  them- 
selves absolved  from  all  spiritual  allegiance  by  the 
mere  circumstance  of  their  not  being  "christians" 
in  their  religious  opinion ;  people  who  boast  of  their 
sensuality,  their  luxury,  their  sloth,  their  coarseness 
and  brutality  of  taste,  their  indifference  to  culture, 
their  insusceptibility  to  ideal  things,  their  moral 
skepticism  in  regard  to  noble  people  and  noble  aims, 
and  all  because  they  doubt  the  inspiration  of  the 
Bible,  the  divinity  of  Jesus,  the  infallibility  of  the 
apostles,  or  the  divine  institution  of  the  church !  as 
if  these  opinions  had  any  vital  bearing  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  reality  and  worth  of  spiritual  things  ! 


10 

Not  from  any  such  doubtful  and  precarious  posi- 
tion do  we  survey  this  broad  field  of  interest.  Not 
on  any  such  technical  grounds  would  we  discuss  the 
relative  worth  of  things  material  and  things  spiritual. 
The  distinction  we  draw  is  not  local  or  incidental ; 

m 

the  concerns  we  plead  for  are  not  conditioned  in  im- 
portance on  times  and  seasons.  The  values  we  assert 
are  not  extrinsic  but  intrinsic.  Let  me  see  if  I  can 
make  this  clear. 

I.     And  first  it  is  worth  considering  that  all  in- 
terests have  a  spiritual — that  is,  a  purely  intellectual 
aspect,  and  that   this   aspect  is   the  noblest.     The 
most  solid  human  interest,  or  group  of  interests  is, 
undoubtedly.  Government.     It  stands  for  force,  do- 
minion,   wealth,   power,    patronage   in  the   highest 
human  degree.     It  controls  army  and  navy,  treasury, 
diplomacy,  law,  and  execution  of  law.     It  employs 
thousands  of  people,  conducts  immense  enterprises, 
gives  opening  to  crowds  of  ambitious  aspirants  after 
place  and  fame  ;  so  attractive  and  imposing  is  its 
material  side,  that  the  frailest  connection  with  the 
government  is  regarded  by  mercenary  people  as  a 
cable  tether  to  the  rock'  of  ages.     But  what  would 
a  government  be  worth  that  existed  for  no  other 
object  than  to  employ  armies  and  navies,  support 
embassies,  take  money  from  the  pockets  of  the  many 
to  make  the  fortunes  of  a  few,  provide  thousands  of 


11 

places  in  custom  houses  and  post  offices  for  people 
who  find  that  the  most  convenient  way  of  support- 
ing their  families  ?  Would  any  government  on  earth 
be  tolerated  on  these  terms?  Government  stands 
for  law  as  against  anarchy,  for  peace  as  against  vio- 
lence, for  order  as  against  convulsion,  for  social  organi- 
zation under  intelligence  and  equity  as  against  the 
reckless  plunder  of  man  by  man.  They  who  fill  the 
places  of  government  are  supposed  to  have  deeply 
at  heart  the  interests  of  the  community,  the  interests 
of  equal  justice,  fair  dealing,  harmonious  adjust- 
ments between  class  and  class.  That  they  have 
these  things  at  heart  is  their  sole  justification  for 
taking  office  under  government,  as  all  men  feel  bit- 
terly  enough  when  politicians,  looking  at  govern- 
ment and  its  patronage  on  the  material  side  alone, 
use  its  trusts  for  their  private  purposes,  obtain  places 
that  they  may  fatten  there  in  idleness,  and  get  near 
the  treasury  that  they  may  steal  from  it.  The  con- 
tempt for  the  ordinary  politician  is  a  confession  that 
politics  is,  after  all,  a  great  spiritual  interest,  and  is 
outraged  when  regarded  otherwise. 

Look  at  any  department  of  government,  the  post 
office  for  example.  Not  a  few  consider  the  post  of- 
fice as  an  institution  for  the  benefit  of  commercial 
bankrupts ;  an  infirmary  for  postmasters  and  clerks. 
That  is  the  material  aspect ;  others  take  into  account 


12 

the  revenue  that  is  to  be  collected  from  it  for  the 
general  operations  of  the  government;  the  material 
side  again.  Others  affirm  the  function  of  the  post 
office  to  be  the  promotion,  on  the  easiest  terms,  of  in- 
tercourse by  letter  between  the  different  points  in 
any  country  and  between  the  different  countries  of 
the  globe.  They  think  of  the  friendly  messages  it 
causes  to  flit  to  and  fro,  the  greetings  of  sympathy, 
the  congratulations,  the  invitations,  the  business 
facilities,  the  close  communion  of  sentiment  it  estab- 
lishes between  the  most  remote  parts  of  the  earth,  the 
opening  even  to  the  poor  and  straitened  in  lot,  of 
channels  of  intercourse  with  their  distant  homes  be- 
yond the  ocean,  so  that  the  Irish  servant-girl  in  Amer- 
ica may  feel  that  she  is  not  cut  off  from  her  kindred. 
The  post  office  is  an  organ  of  fraternity,  an  agency  of 
brotherhood,  and  as  such  it  means  sympathy,  support, 
help  in  difficulties,  strength  in  temptation,  dispersion 
of  darkness,  scattering  of  war  clouds,  restoration  of 
good  feeling,  increase  of  the  family  spirit,  happiness, 
individual  and  general.  Cheap  postage  on  one  side 
touches  the  question  of  income,  on  the  other  the  ques- 
tion of  amity ;  and  while  the  materialist  thinks  only 
of  the  former,  and  is  quite  indifferent  whether  the  rates 
are  high  or  low,  provided  the  expenses  are  handsomely 
covered,  the  spiritualist  thinks  of  the  latter,  and  is 
anxious  that  the  rates  should  be  as  low  as  possible 


13 

in  order  that  the  l)enefii  may  ))e  us  p^t-nerally  as  ])0s- 
sible  shared. 

The  interests  of  ])nsiness  are  eommonly  re;4arded 
as  material  interests,  heeause  business  deals  with 
mone}'  and  merchandise  :  its  maehinery  is  the  ware- 
house, the  railroad,  the  shij).  the  factory,  its  results 
are  wealth;  btit  who  fails  to  see  that  btisiness  has  its 
spiritual  as  well  as  its  material  side  ?  that  it  means 
the  distribution  of  the  products  of  the  globe,  the  de- 
velopment of  the  earth's  resotirces.  the  reclamation  of 
waste  lands,  the  peopling  of  the  wilderness,  the  ex- 
termination or  domestication  of  beasts,  the  subjuga- 
tion or  regeneration  of  inferior  races,  the  elevation  of 
man,  the  extinction  of  national  prejudices,  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  antipathies  of  race,  cessation  of  wars,  the 
prevention  of  famines,  the  peaceful  alliance  of  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  the  strong  and  the  feeble — the 
diminution  of  poverty,  better  clothing,  better  shelter, 
better  food  for  the  people,  multiplication  of  industries, 
discipline  of  powers,  augmented  means  of  safety, 
multiplied  securities  for  health,  more  skilful  physi- 
cians, more  efficient  schools,  wiser  preaching,  larger 
provisions  for  the  higher  education,  more  leisure  and 
more  Resources  for  the  improvement  of  leisure,  more 
social  morality  and  consequently  more  resj^ect  for 
character  ?  Surely  these  are  spiritual  interests,  if  any 
such  there  be  ;  and  there  is  not  a  business  man  ^\hose 


14 

daily  occupation  does  not  lie  close  to  these  noble 
domains.  Spirituality,  for  him,  consists  in  keeping 
before  him  the  possibilities  of  his  vocation,  and  letting 
that  contemplation  subdue  the  inordinate  greed  that 
suggests  the  monopoly  of  wealth  for  private  gain. 

Thus  regarded,  material  things  become  the  visible 
emblems  of  things  divine.  The  spiritual  interest  so 
completely  dominates  that  every  other  interest  is 
but  a  reflection  of  it.  Things  visible  are  the  shadows, 
things  invisible  are  the  substance ;  as  the  marriage- 
ring,  which  was  at  first  the  sign  of  bondage  of  the 
woman  to  the  man,  the  golden  substitute  for  the  chain, 
becomes  the  symbol  of  union,  the  pledge  of  mutual 
constancy,  the  bond  of  reciprocal  love ;  —  as  the 
national  flag,  which  stood  first  for  national  force  o& 
arms,  stands  now  for  national  faith  and  honor,  and 
carries  pride  as  once  it  carried  terror,  in  its  folds,  so 
the  dollar  is  transfigured  into  the  symbol  of  the  pur- 
est humanity.  It  means  bread  that  is  consumed,  gar- 
ments that  wear  out,  draperies  that  fade,  dwellings 
that  crumble.  It  means  also  education,  art,  elegance, 
beautiful  manners,  the  compassion  that  relieves 
misery,  the  philanthropy  that  removes  want,  the  provi- 
dence that  tries  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  uncer- 
tain human  lot,  the  heroic  labor  that  toils  at  mending 
the  condition  of  the  world.  Spirituality  has  no  more 
touching  symbol  than  the  dollar  of  gold;    for  the 


15 

metal  it  is  made  of  as  well  as  the  purpose  it  serves 
and  the  stamp  it  bears,  is  a  testimony  to  the  amount 
of  mind,  the  fulness  of  heart,  the  weight  of  con- 
science that  can  be  packed  away  within  a  small  cir- 
cumference. It  is  more  significant  than  the  altar ;  yes, 
it  is  more  fragrant  with  high  meanings  than  the 
cross.  It  marks  the  priest  in  every  costume  and  at- 
titude ;  it  denotes  legions  of  consecrated  men. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive  how  domestic  life  has  its 
spiritual  side.  It  is  not  shown  in  family  prayers  or 
grace  before  meat,  or  stated  lessons  from  the  cate- 
chism, or  committing  to  memory  of  Bible  texts,  or 
instruction  in  religious  opinions,  but  in  the  social 
spirit  as  contrasted  with  the  utilitarian.  The  mate- 
rial side  of  home  is  always  uppermost;  the  cloth- 
ing, feeding,  curing,  teaching,  training  in  decent 
habits,  arranging  of  hours  and  engagements,  econo- 
mies of  fuel,  gas,  lights,  administration  of  ser- 
vice, and  the  thousand  things  that  go  to  make  up 
material  comfort.  Add  to  these  the  artificial  accom- 
plishments, meant  for  display ;  the  society  manners 
cultivated  for  purposes  of  social  influence;  the 
show  of  art  and  beauty  necessary  for  the  mainten- 
ance of  the  proper  social  position ;  you  are  not  yet 
out  of  the  range  of  purely  material  interests.  But 
let  the  members  of  the  household  be  helpful  towards 
one   another,   even    in   ordinary  ways,   like    giving 


16 

amusement  or  instruction,  taking  care,  lending  a 
hand,  and  the  spirituality  comes  in.  It  may  be  car- 
ried to  an  unlimited  point,  reaching  mutual  consid- 
erateness,  forbearance,  resignations  and  sacrifices 
such  as  children  will  show  towards  parents,  brothers 
and  sisters  towards  each  other,  the  virtuous  towards 
the  vicious  ;  such  as  Charles  Lamb  displayed  to  his 
insane  sister ;  but  it  begins  with  the  first  act  of 
thoughtfulness  which  has  no  reference  to  self.  "Par- 
adise is  at  the  feet  of  mothers,"  said  Mahomet,  mean- 
ing the  mothers  who  bestow  on  their  children  the 
best  they  have,  not  that  they  may  be  popular,  well 
married,  successful  in  the  common  sense,  but  that 
they  may  be  men  and  women,  excellent  as  their  gifts 
allow.  There  is  no  higher  type  of  spirituality  than 
this.  There  is  no  living  for  Heaven  more  dear  and 
positive  than  this.  There  is  no  changing  of  the  cor- 
ruptible into  incorruption,  no  clothing  of  the  mor- 
tal with  immortality,  no  putting  on  of  the  angel 
more  literal  and  visible.  The  very  countenances 
of  those  who  live  at  home  in  this  way  become  trans- 
figured by  the  quality  of  goodness  that  irradiates 
the  heart,  and  reveal  to  all  men  that  here  are  spirits 
manifest  in  the  flesh.  Dickens  has  described  it  a 
hundred  times.  This  mode  of  spiritualizing  home 
was  in  fact  the  burden  of  his  gospel ;  and  the  mis- 
sion of  Dickens  will  be  fully  fulfilled  only  when  the 


17 

true  nieiiiiin;^'  of  this  lesson  shall  l)r  a])]ir(']i(Mi(lc(l. 
and  d  liearlv  union  oi'  l'aniilif>  on  cariii  in  Konds  of 
diiilv  service  and  kindnos.  shall  al)>orh  a  jiortion  of 
the  interest  n(.)W  felr  in  the  fuiurr  reunion  of  fami- 
lies in  heaven.  'J'liere  is  sonirl  hiiii;'  i4ros>ly  niatrrial  in 
the  lon^iuL;'  for  rt'uni(ni  on  the  oilu-r  side  of  death. 
on  the  part  of  ])eo}ile.  who.  on  ihi>  side,  have  al- 
lowed (  nvy.  jealousy,  rivalrvand  ill  teuii)er  of  every 
kind  to  make  pandemoinum  of  their  housidiold>.  Xo 
casting  oil'  of  the  body  will  ehange  such  }ieople  into 
spirits. 

II.  'Idle  degree  of  interest  felt  in  sjtiritual  things 
appears  in  the  distance  of  life's  perspective,  in  the 
nearness  or  remoteness  of  the  })ersonal  ends  sought.  It 
is  a  question  between  innne(liate  enjoyment  and  dis- 
tant satisfaction.  The  s})irii  uality  deepens  as  the  grat- 
ification recedes,  because  then  intelligence  and  hope 
come  in  ;  the  mind  shows  itself  capable  of  sustaiinng 
a  long  flight.  One  of  Krinnmacher's  })arables  runs 
in  this  way  :  A  countryman  brought  home  five  of 
the  finest  peaches  that  could  be  had.  and.  giving  one 
to  his  wife,  gave  the  others  to  his  four  boys.  The 
next  day  he  asked  the  children  how  they  enjoyed 
the  fruit.  ••  I  ate  mine  up  in  a  minute."  cried  the 
youngest,  "and  mother  gave  me  half  of  hers.  ( )h  ! 
how  sweet  it  was  I ""  That  was  the  child"s  way.  The 
second  said  :  ••  I  sold  my  peach  for  money  enough  to 


1« 

buy  half  a  dozen  very  fair  ones,  and  seeing  my  little 
brother  throw  away  the  stone  of  his,  I  picked  it  up 
and  cracked  it,  and  ate  the  kernel."  The  third  be- 
ing questioned,  replied,  "  It  was  a  delicious  fruit ; 
so  delicious  that  after  eating  it,  I  saved  the  stone  for 
planting,  and  mean  to  grow  a  tree  of  such."  That 
is  the  answer  of  prudence  and  thrift,  replied  the 
father :  but  now  let  us  hear  what  our  eldest  son  has 
to  say.  "  The  fruit,"  said  Edmund,  "  seemed  too  good 
for  me  to  eat ;  and  thinking  of  our  sick  neighbor, 
all  hot  and  dry  with  fever,  I  took  it  to  him;  and 
when  he  refused  to  take  it  I  put  it  on  his  bed  and 
went  away."  Who  enjoyed  his  peach  most  ?  asked 
the  father,  "  Edmund,"  cried  they  all  at  once.  He 
enjoyed  the  fruit  most  keenly  who  tasted  it  with  his 
imagination.  He  most  enjoyed  it  who  made  it  minis- 
ter to  another's  joy. 

Must  we  drink  the  cup  of  satisfaction  with  our 
lips,  or  can  we  trust  our  heart?  Is  the  sense  of 
taste  in  our  palate,  or  in  our  affection  ?  That  is  the 
question.  The  spendthrift  comes  into  a  fortune, 
and  spends  it  all,  interest  and  capital,  as  fast  as  his 
hungry  appetites  can  drain  it  down ;  dinners  and 
suppers,  horses  and  grooms,  wine  and  women,  the 
turf  and  the  gaming  table,  sucking  it  in  as  sand 
sucks  in  water ;  and  when  it  is  gone  there  is  nothing 
to  show  for  it  but  a  broken  constitution  and  a  ruined 


19 

character.     That   is   gross   materialism.       His   cau- 
tious,  narrow-eyed  brother  allows  himself  few   in- 
dulgences, diminishes  the  number  of  his  wants,  saves, 
husbands,  invests,  turns  his  property  over  and  over, 
exulting  in  its  accumulation,  and  feasting  over  the 
prospect  of  future  riches,  of  rank  among  the  million- 
aires of  his  time.      Materialism  of  aim,  less  gross  but 
not  less  thorough.       His  cousin  is  a  wise  economist, 
estimating   his   needs   soberly,   and    managing    his 
affairs  shrewdl}^  with  an  eye  to  solid  wealth  ;  but  he 
appreciates   the   civilizing   power  of  money,  has  in 
view  the   progress  of  society,  and  rejoices    to   see 
his  funds  helping  on  enterprises  of  discovery,  inven- 
tion, public  improvement,  the  development  of  new 
industries,  the  opening  of  new  advantages  to  the 
multitude.     He  has  a  taste  of  the  spiritual  life;  he 
is  beginning  to  live  out  of  himself  and  in  the  commu- 
nity ;  he  consults  a  large  intelligence,  and  spreads 
the  wings  of  faith  and  sympathy ;  the  human  in  him 
is  getting  the  better  of  the  bestial ;  his  selfhood  is 
expanding ;  he  is  rising  above  the  world  of  material 
interests.    But  a  kinsman  of  his  takes  a  nobler  flight 
into  the  empyrean  ]jy  committing  himself  at  once  to 
the  etherial  element.     He  is   a  worker  too,  a  money 
maker,  an  economist,  wasting  nothing  on  luxuries, 
keeping  his  appetites  down,  making  his  wants  few 
and  simple,  but  holding  his  fortune  as  a  trust  com- 


20 

mitted  to  him  by  humanity  for  humanity's  use,  and 
choosing  to  see  for  himself  that  it  bears  good  will 
with  it  into  the  bosom  of  society.  He  will  remove 
particular  obstacles,  will  open  direct  channels,  will 
provide  for  the  satisfaction  of  obvious  wants  in  his 
society,  will  lend  a  hand  to  struggling  merit,  and 
take  care  that  minds  striving  for  information  and 
intelligence  shall  be  put  in  the  way  of  obtaining  it. 
This  man  lives  in  his  brotherhood;  he  feeds  his 
heart;  he  gathers  in  treasures  by  his  sympathy;  his 
best  existence  is  in  others  ;  he  is  spiritually  minded  ; 
his  being  is  taken  up  with  spiritual  things,  though 
his  days  are  spent  in  an  iron  foundry  or  a  glue 
factory.  If  there  be  a  heaven  in  store  for  him  it 
will  be  no  happier  than  his  earth.  If  angels  are 
hereafter  to  be  his  companions,  they  will  be  no 
brighter  than  the  thoughts  that  are  familiar  inhabit- 
ants of  his  own  heart.  It  is  enough  for  him  that  he 
anticipates  the  fruit  of  his  labor  in  happier  genera- 
tions of  people. 

III.  And  this  reminds  us  that  the  question  of  ma- 
terial and  spiritual  interests  is  essentially  a  question 
of  lower  or  higher  uses.  There  is  no  spiritualityat  all 
without  use.  Spirituality  begins  continues  and  cul- 
minates in  use.  To  be  genuinely  useful  in  any  way 
is  to  be  so  far,  spiritual ;  to  be  nobly,  comprehensive- 
ly, humanly  useful  is  to  be  spiritual  in  a  grand  way. 


21 

In  old  times  men  and  women  left  society  and  went 
into  religious  houses  where  they  employed  them- 
selves in  piously  killing  time.  These  people,  meas- 
ured by  our  standard,  were  as  destitute  of  real  spir- 
ituality as  it  was  easy  for  people  to  be ;  for  their 
lives  were  of  no  actual  benefit  to  anybody.  The 
poor  fiddler  who  went  about  amusing  children  with 
his  tunes  led  a  more  spiritual  life.  Comte  would 
forbid  the  study  of  all  subjects  that  had  no  direct 
bearing  on  human  welfare,  even  of  scientific  subjects 
like  astronomy,  which  draw  away  so  much  fine  intel- 
ligence from  practical  concerns.  He  felt  that  the  oc- 
cupation of  the  mind  with  visionary  matters  was  no 
proof  of  its  transfiguration.  But  how  stubborn 
the  persuasion  is,  that  an  idle  minister  is  nearer 
heaven  than  a  square-dealing  mechanic;  that  to  read 
dreamy  books  of  devotion  shows  a  diviner  bent  of 
disposition  than  to  laugh  and  cry  over  Dickens' 
novels  ;  that  to  go  to  sleep  under  a  sermon  is  worthi- 
er an  etherial  soul  than  waiting  courteously  on  custo- 
mers in  a  shop  !  Epictetus  says :  "  Remember  that 
at  every  meal  that  there  are  two  to  be  fed,  a  body  and 
a  mind."  He  that  lives  to  eat  is  material :  he  that 
eats  to  live  is  spiritual.  The  pleasure  that  only 
causes  the  momentary  thrill  of  a  nerve  is  material ; 
the  pleasure  that  rests  and  refreshes  the  nerves  is 
spiritual.    The  opera  and  theatre  have  their  spiritual 


22 

uses  ;  churches  aud  prayer  meetings  often  have  their 
material  uses.  The  dress  that  protects  the  body  and 
facilitates  its  motion,  serves  a  spiritual  end.  The 
dress  that  merely  adorns  the  body,  while  it  leaves 
the  sensitive  parts  exposed,  and  impedes  its  free  ac- 
tivities serves  material  ends,  though  it  be  made  of 
silk  and  velvet,  and  glitters  with  gems.  The  old 
spiritual  artists,  Angelico  and  others,  draped  their 
beautiful  spirits  in  garments  they  could  not  possibly 
walk  in,  and  only  by  some  supernatural  machinery 
could  keep  on  ;  and  teachers  have  represented  the 
spiritual  mind  in  costumes  which  made  quite  impos- 
sible any  participation  in  terrestrial  uses. 

The  business  of  to-day  is  to  find  the  sky  in  the 
sods,  the  divinity  in  the  dust.  "  Hitch  your  wagon 
to  a  star,"  says  Emerson.  He  might  have  added, 
"Hitch  your  star  to  a  wagon."  The  divine  mind 
lets  nothing  run  to  waste ;  but  puts  into  atoms  of 
water  and  grains  of  seed,  thoughts  that  fill  to  over- 
flowing minds  like  that  of  Shakespeare.  The  meaning 
of  the  present,  the  present  moment,  the  present  con- 
tingency, the  present  occasion,  experience,  gift,  how 
many  comprehend  it  ?  We  are  like  the  woman  of 
Samaria  who,  meeting  the  Son  of  Man  at  the  well, 
asked  him  to  give  her  a  Fortunatus'  water  pail  that 
should  be  always  full ;  like  children  in  a  garden 
who  will  not  stop  to  pluck  the  nearest  flower  be- 


23 

cause  a  gaudier  one  tempts  them  at  the  end  of  the 
path ;  we  are  thinking  so  much  on  the  felicity  that 
shall  come  when  we  are  dead,  that  we  cannot  stop  to 
pluck  the  felicity  of  the  da}'.  I  sometimes  think  it 
would  be  well  if  people  could  for  a  season  completely 
lose  the  idea  of  a  supersensual  world,  of  any  sphere 
beyond  this,  of  any  being  above  man,  of  any  state 
superior  to  the  state  of  ordinary  human  existence, 
and  be  shut  up  within  the  circle  of  their  daily  duties 
and  affections.  It  is  a  recommendation  of  small 
farming  that  it  gets  the  utmost  possible  product  out 
of  a  small  plot  of  ground.  Surface  tillage  will  not 
answer, — to  tickle  the  soil  with  a  hoe  is  not  enough. 
There  must  be  top  dressing  and  deep  ploughing. 
The  farmer  must  study  the  alternation  of  crops, 
must  study  drainage  and  irrigation,  must  adopt  new 
inventions  of  implements,  in  order  to  avail  himself 
of  every  atom  of  vitality  the  ground  will  furnish. 
In  this  view  the  system  of  small  proprietorship  is 
favored,  as  securing  the  largest  returns  to  the  smallest 
capital. 

So  perhaps  it  would  be  in  the  larger  experience 
of  life.  Possibly  if  we  had  less  world  we  should 
make  a  better  use  of  it.  The  dream  of  immortality 
often  involves  a  fearful  waste  of  time.  It  cannot 
be  well  to  allow  even  heaven  to  dwarf  and  stultify 
the  earth.     One  may  as  easily  have  too  much  here- 


24 

after  as  too  little.  The  hope  of  another  state  of  be- 
ing is  full  of  consolation  and  stimulus,  but  the  stim- 
ulus and  consolation  are  healthy  on  one  condition, 
namely,  that  the  other  state  of  being  shall  grow- 
naturally  out  of  this, — shall  be  the  oak  from  its 
acorn,  the  flower  from  its  seed,  the  fruit  from  its 
bud  ;  that  the  corruptible  shall  put  on  incorruption  ; 
that  the  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality ;  that  the 
spiritual  t;li;ill  u:ifold  itself  from  the  natural.  Spirit- 
uality is  a  qiiulity  not  a  circumstance.  Rather  than 
have  it  regarded  a>  a  circumstance,  dependent  on  a 
physical  change  incident  to  a  removal  to  another 
residence,  it  would  be  better  to  drop  the  idea  of 
spirituality  entirely.  What  if  we  could  just  reverse 
the  old  order  of  ideas  and  say,  that  so  far  from  being 
spiritual  in  proportion  as  one  lives  out  of  this  world, 
one  is  spiritual  in  proportion  as  he  lives  in  it ;  that 
spirituality  consists  not  in  putting  off  the  flesh,  but 
in  handsomely  putting  it  on,  and  discovering  what  a 
wonderfully  elastic  and  beautiful  robe  it  is.  The 
good  hymn  says : 

And  while  the  world  our  hands  employs, 

Our  hearts  be  Thine  above. 

A  deeper  piety  will  encourage  a  consecration  to 
the  world  of  hearts  as  well  as  hands,  keeping  the 
two  close  together  in  their  quest  of  the  divine  spirit 
that  makes  the  world  an  opportunity,  and  life  an 
improvement  of  it. 


PHARISEES. 


The  subject  of  this  discourse  is  Pharisees ;  not 
the  Pharisees,  but  Pharisees.  The  theme  cannot  be 
approached  until  the  fact  is  clearly  recognized 
that  Pharisaism,  is  a  universal  and  not  a  local  phe- 
nomenon. The  word  "  Pharisee  "  is  so  closely  asso- 
ciated with  the  passages  of  the  Ncav  Testament,  in 
which  people  bearing  the  name  were  denounced 
in  unmeasured  language  as  formalists  and  hypo- 
crites, that  it  is  difficult  to  understand  its  true 
meaning.  Yet  even  a  careless  reading  of  the  New 
Testament  should  make  it  clear  that  all  Pharisees 
were  not  of  the  class  who  exposed  themselves  to  the 
invective  of  Jfesus.  Nicodemus,  the  eminent  Pharisee, 
whose  love  of  truth  and  desire  for  fairness  brought 
him  to  Jesus,  and  who  sought  the  interview  by  night, 
when  calmness  and  privacy  could  be  better  secured 
than  in  the  day,  is  certainly  described  as  an  exception. 
The  Gamaliel,  who,  according  to  the  "  Acts  of  the 
Apostles  "  gave  mild  counsel  in  the  case  of  Peter  and 


his  companions,  and  procured  their  liberation  from 
bonds,  was  a  Pharisee,  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  "  rich 
man,"  "  honorable  counsellor,"  "  good  man  and  just," 
■'  who  also  himself  waited  for  the  kingdom  of  God." 
The  "  disciple  of  Jesus  "  who  offered  his  new  tomb  as 
a  sepulchre  for  the  young  prophet,  was  in  all  proba- 
bility, a  Pharisee.  Paul,  the  apostle  of  spiritual  free- 
dom, spoke  of  himself  as  a  Pharisee  of  the  Phari- 
sees, and  boasted  of  it.  The  people  who  asked  if  any 
of  the  Pharisees  believed  in  Jesus  apparently  referred 
to  them  with  respect  as  persons  of  consideration, 
judgment,  intelligence  and  piety;  as  good  patriots 
and  good  believers.  Nay,  if  opinions  are  to  be  taken 
in  evidence,  Jesus  Himself  may  be  classed  among  the 
Pharisees,  for  His  religious  views  were  essentially 
identical  with  theirs.  Pharisees,  it  is  plain,  were  not 
all  of  the  same  kind,  some  were  educated,  others  not ; 
some  were  thoughtful,  others  not ;  some  wer^  conser- 
vative, others  not;  some  were  more  earnest,  some 
more  spiritually  minded  than  others. 

The  Pharisees  are  commonly  spoken  of  as  a  sect ; 
they  were  not  a  sect ;  they  were  not  a  party  ;  they 
were  not  a  faction.  They  were  the  "  true  Israel." 
Their  place  in  their  time  ^nd  country  corresponded 
very  nearly  with  the  place  the  Puritans  held  in  Eng- 
land, with  the  place  thjit  members  of  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association  hold  to  day ;  with  this  difference ; 


that  the  members  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Asso- 
ciation are  concerned  with  religious  matters  alone, 
while  the  Pharisees  combined  religion  with  politics. 
This  they  did  from  the  necessity  of  the  situation. 
Among  the  Hebrews  of  Palestine,  Church  and  State 
were  so  closely  connected  as  to  be  identical.  The 
Church  was  the  State  and  the  State  was  the  Church. 
Patriotism  and  piety  went  together  hand  in  hand. 
Jehovah  was  sole  King.  He  made  the  laws;  He 
appointed  the  officers ;  He  planted  the  institutions. 
The  fortune  of  the  people  in  all  respects,  in  every 
estate,  was  supposed  to  be  dependent  on  fidelity  to 
Jehovah's  decree.  Obedience  to  "  the  Lord "  en- 
sured prosperity  and  happiness.  The  prophet  and 
the  politician  were  one.  Priest  and  ruler  were  the 
same  person. 

The  people  who  saw  this  most  clearly,  appreciated  it 
most  profoundly,  felt  it  most  earnestly,  seized  the  spirit 
of  it  most  vigorously,  and  set  themselves  the  task  of 
keeping  the  nation  up  to  their  fundamental  ideas 
were  the  Pharisees.  Political  and  social  exigencies 
awoke  the  zeal  of  the  more  earnest  Israelites  who 
found  one  another  out,  came  to  a  general  under- 
standing together,  combined  force  and  influence,  and 
became  known  by  their  practical  aims  and  purposes, 
as  representatives  of  certain  ideas,  leaders  in  certain 
movements.     They  were  called  "  pharisees,"  that  is. 


"  separatists,"  people  who  kept  apart,  exclusives,  as 
we  should  say.  The  term  "  puritan "  was  applied 
to  them,  perhaps,  in  derision.  They  were  spoken  of 
as  "  the  elect."  These  names  became  fixed  upon 
them,  and  at  last  were  accepted  and  borne  in  good 
faith.  They  did  claim  to  be  distinguished  by  loyalty 
to  the  Hebrew  traditions,  by  devotion  to  the  Hebrew 
faith,  by  allegiance  to  the  principles  of  the  Hebrew 
commonwealth.  They  did  claim  regard  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  the  true  servants  of  Jehovah, , 
and  the  true  friends  of  His  people. 

Patriots  they  were  and  pietists ;  both  at  once  and 
both  in  the  same  thought  and  act ;  patriots  and 
pietists,  by  eminence  above  all  others;  judges  of 
patriotism  and  censors  of  piety.  As  patriots  they" 
were  narrow  and  intense,  their  narrowness  running 
into  intolerance,  their  intensity  running  into  fanati- 
cism. They  had  but  one  idea,  to  preserve  the  sacred 
integrity  of  the  Hebrew  state  against  foreign  inter- 
ference and  internal  change.  They  constituted  the 
"  native  Hebrew  party."  They  detested  the  Roman 
power  as  a  usurpation.  They  abhorred  the  publicans 
who  collected  taxes  for  its  support.  They  had  no 
patience  with  the  Sadducees  who  dabbled  in  pagan 
politics  and  tried  to  introduce  into  Jerusalem  the 
culture  of  Alexandria  and  Corinth.  They  were 
exceedingly  jealous  of  all  attempts  to  dictate  and 


weaken  the  stem  Jewish  temper  by  introducing  a 
taste  for  foreign  literature,  art  or  elegance.  As  a  class 
they  were  not  what  we  call  "radical,"  that  is, 
extreme  in  their  views  of  practical  policy.  It  would 
be  truer  to  say  that  as  a  class  they  were  moderate,* 
averse  to  uproar  and  disturbance.  The  bulk  of  them 
may  have  been  conservatives  of  the  existing  order, 
rather  disposed  to  await  the  providential  turn  of 
affairs  than*  to  encourage  revolution.  But  whether 
conservative  or  radical,  they  were  severely  narrow  in 
their  estimate  of  the  qualities  that  constituted  the 
Hebrew  patriot. 

As  professors  of  religion  the  Pharisees  carried 
their  loyalty  to  the  faith  of  their  fathers,  to  fanat- 
icism on  the  side  of  austerity.  They  were  whole- 
sale believers,  who  took  the  faith  literally,  and  with 
an  ostrich-like  digestion.  All  the  scripture  they 
could  get  was  not  enough  for  them.  They  must 
have  tradition  too  and  tradition  on  tradition,  noth- 
ing less  than  the  whole  counsel  of  the  Lord  would 
satisfy  them.  They  could  not  lose  a  thought  or  the 
shadow  of  a  thought,  a  promise  or  the  ghost  of 
a  promise.  In  their  zeal  to  possess  the  whole  truth 
they  turned  scripture  inside  out,  applied  the  micro- 
scope to  it,  counted  the  chapters,  the  words;  tor- 
tured phrases  in  order  to  drag  out  hidden  confes- 
sions ;  refined  upon  texts  and  with  inexhaustible  sub- 


tlety  endeavored  to  entrap  the  lurking  whispers  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  In  their  determination  to  "fulfil 
all  righteousness  "  they  were  scrupulously  exact  in 
the  performance  of  every  religious  duty  ;  they  omit- 
ted no  observance ;  they  slighted  no  occasion ;  they 
missed  no  ceremony.  They  tithed  the  smallest 
things  "mint,  anise,  cummin,"  they  washed  their 
cups  and  platters  according  to  the  strictest  regula- 
tions ;  they  measured  words,  steps,  actions.  They 
would  do  nothing  on  the  Sabbath ;  they  became 
formal  and  ceremonious  to  a  degree  that  passed  into 
a  proverb.  The  Talmud  inveighed  against  this  class 
of  men  as  bitterly  as  the  New  Testament  did.  It 
speaks  of  the  "  plague  of  Pharisaism,"  "  The  dyed 
ones  "  who  do  evil  deeds  like  Simon,  and  require  a 
goodly  reward  like  Phineas,"  "Who  preach  beau- 
tifully and  act  vilely."  That  all  Pharisees  were 
of  this  stamp  must  not  be  asserted  nor  thought. 
The  noblest  men  of  the  nation  were  Pharisees ;  the 
wisest  counsellors,  the  purest  characters,  the  most 
upright  and  generous  souls.  But  the  men  who  set 
spies  on  the  movements  of  Jesus — who  hated  Him 
because  he  put  the  spirit  before  the  letter  and  sacri- 
ficed the  former  to  the  substance,  making  of  prime 
importance  the  intent  and  purpose  of  the  law,  the 
men,  who,  for  the  same  reason  pursued  Paul  from 
city  to  city,  were  Pharisees ;  and  the  vices  that  Jesus 


charged  against  them  were  perfectly  natural,  WBrnay 
say,  were  unavoidable  by  ordinary  minds.  The 
tendency  of  the  Pharisee  was  to  become  a  sectarian, 
and  a  narrow  one.  There  was  nothing  surprising  in 
his  becoming  a  bigot  and  a  hypocrite.  No  great 
party  long  preserves  its  virtue.  It  must  not  be  ex- 
pected that  numbers  of  men  will,  for  generations, 
live  up  to  the  level  of  a  high  purpose.  The  more 
active  they  are,  the  closer  is  their  dealing  with  prac- 
tical affairs  ;  the  more  entire  their  devotion  to  imme- 
diate ends,  the  greater  is  the  danger  that  they  will 
compromise  their  principle  and  finally  drop  it  or 
pervert  it. 

The  point  I  wish  to  insist  on  now  is  this :  that 
the  worst  qualities  of  the  Pharisee,  the  formalism, 
the  bigotry,  the  hollowness,  the  assumption  of  moral 
and  spiritual  superiority,  grew  directly  from  the 
cardinal  idea  with  which  they  started, — the  idea 
namely,  that  they  were  "  set  apart "  for  the  purpose 
of  purifying  and  restoring  Israel.  This  idea,  how- 
ever shadowy,  however  honorable  and  noble  at  the 
beginning,  soon  made  them  a  sect  and  gave  them  the 
attributes  of  a  sect.  The  "Separatists"  were  the 
"  elect " ;  the  "  elect "  claimed  the  privileges  of  their 
"  election  "  ;  and  among  their  privileges  was  that  oi 
looking  down  on  their  neighbors  as  less  deserving  of 
regard  than  themselves.  And  this  is  the  soul  of 
Pharisaism. 


10 

That  Pharisaism  as  a  fact  was  not  confined  to  the 
Jews  of  any  period,  need  not  be  said.  Of  course  it 
was  not.  It  is  a  universal  fact.  Christian  as  well 
as  Jewish,  modern  as  well  as  antique.  It  is  a  fact  of 
history ;  it  is  a  fact  of  human  nature.  Wherever 
there  is  separation  there  is  exclusiveness ;  wherever 
there  is  exclusiveness  there  is  assumption ;  wherever 
there  is  assumption  there  is  arrogance ;  wherever 
there  is  arrogance  there  is  bitterness  and  contempt, 
formalism  and  hypocrisy.  The  principle  of  ex- 
clusiveness makes  the  Pharisee. 

Pharisaism  is  not  a  phenomenon  peculiar  to  re- 
ligion. It  is  a  phenomenon  of  society.  All  separat- 
ists are  in  a  degree  Pharisees.  There  is  the  philo- 
sophical Pharisee,  puffed  up  with  the  conceit  of  his 
intellectual  supremacy.  He  fancies  himself  living  in 
the  region  of  serene  ideas,  far  above  the  stupidity 
and  illusions  of  the  vulgar  crowd.  He  comprehends 
the  meaning  of  things ;  has  an  insight  into  the 
secrets  of  the  universe.  He  wraps  the  cloak  of  in- 
fallibility about  him,  walks  with  stately  step,  and 
looks  down  with  lofty  scorn  on  the  simple  souls  that 
grope  in  darkness,  rarely  condescending  to  cast  the 
pearls  of  his  wisdom  before  the  swine  of  average  in- 
telligence. There  is  the  scientific  Pharisee,  proud  of 
his  method,  and  of  the  results  he  has  achieved  by  it. 
Feeling  that  he,  and  he  alone,  is  on  the  right  path  to 


11 

knowledge,  and  that  all  others  are  widely  and  hope- 
lessly astray ;  regarding  the  theologian  as  an  idle 
speculator  on  subjects  forever  beyond  his  reach,  and 
the  "  philosopher  "  as  an  "  idle  seeker  after  mind," 
he  strikes  a  regal  attitude  in  the  intellectual  world,- 
pronounces  final  judgments  on  systems  and  opinions, 
and  condemns  to  the  limbo  of  discarded  errors,  ven- 
erable beliefs  that  lie  beyond  the  province  of  his  own 
investigations.  There  is  the  Pharisee  of  society,  the 
member  of  the  privileged  order,  of  the  distinguished 
class,  of  the  fashionable  circle,  who  holds  himself 
apart  from  those  whom  he  considers  the  vulgar. 
This  species  of  Pharisee  is  very  common  in  aristo- 
cratic forms  of  society.  In  the  days  of  American 
slavery  he  made  his  presence  felt  wherever  the  slave- 
owner appeared,  claiming  all  the  honor,  chivalry, 
disinterestedness,  civility,  elegance  as  the  peculiarity 
of  his  order,  and  sneering  at  the  industry  and  thrift 
of  his  neighbors  as  qualities  wholly  beneath  his  re- 
spect. But  Pharisaism  survives  the  overthrow  of 
slavery.  The  Pharisee  of  the  clique  or  "  set "  is  as 
lordly  as  the  Pharisee  of  the  order.  His  manners 
are  the  perfect  manners ;  his  morals  are  unexception- 
able; his  sentiments  are  correct;  his  politeness  is 
the  standard. 

Every  race  plays  the  Pharisee  towards  some  other 
race.     Every  religion  towards  other  religions.     The 


12 

Englishman  plays  the  Pharisee  towards  the  East 
Indian,  the  Chinaman,  the  African,  even  the  French- 
man. The  Christian  plays  the  Pharisee  towards  the 
Israelite,  the  Mussulman,  the  Buddhist.  To  this 
day,  in  the  lower  wards  of  New  York,  the  Jew  is 
called  "  Christ  killer"  by  roughs  and  rowdies,  who, 
because  they  bear  the  name  without  a  single  attri- 
bute of  the  Christian,  feel  entitled  to  spit  their 
venom  on  people  who,  in  every  human  quality  are 
their  superiors.  On  his  own  ground  the  Mussulman 
is  a  Pharisee  towards  the  Christian.  A  traveller  in 
the-  East  expressing  surprise  because  certain  valuable 
goods  were  left  exposed  all  night  in  a  frequented 
quarter  of  a  large  town,  was  met  by  an  answer  that 
expressed  equal  surprise  at  his  surprise :  "  Why  not  ? 
There  is  no  danger,  there  are  no  thieves  about ;  there 
is  not  a  Christian  within  twenty  miles."  The  Sec- 
tarian is  a  Pharisee  towards  other  sects.  He  has  no 
doubt  that  his  particular  slice  of  the  religion  con- 
tains the  gold  ring,  and  that  the  rest  is  only  sweet- 
ened bread,  spoiled  for  eating  by  being  sweetened. 
The  early  Christians  called  all  deities  but  their  own 
evil  demons  or  devils,  painted  them  black  or  red, 
gave  them  horns  and  tail  and  cloven  hoof,  represented 
them  as  breathing  flames  and  darting  lightning  from 
their  eyes.  The  later  Christians  content  themselves 
with  verbal  descriptions,  less  vivid  in  color,  but  in 


13 

respect  of  quality  not  far  removed  from  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  olden  time.  The  air  of  self-satis- 
faction which  the  Sectarian  assumes,  and  the  tone  of 
lofty  superiority  he  takes  on  when  speaking  of  his 
neighbor's  differing  shade  of  opinion,  calls  up  with 
sufficient  distinctness  the  typical  Pharisee  of  the 
New  Testament.  The  race  of  Pharisees  is  not 
extinct. 

Every  profession  has  its  Pharisees.  There  are 
Pharisees  among  lawyers,  among  physicians,  among 
clerg}Tnen.  Perhaps  no  one  profession  has  a  pre- 
eminence in  the  quality  of  its  Pharisees  above  the 
rest,  though,  for  obvious  reasons,  the  clerical  profes- 
sion seems  to  excel.  The  clerical  spirit  which  is  the 
soul  of  the  clerical  profession,  is  generally  thought 
of  as  a  spirit  of  arrogance.  That  it  should  be  thought 
so  is  not  surprising;  that  it  should  be  so  is  not 
strange.  The  clergyman  has  a  peculiar  education, 
and  a  peculiar  position.  The  studies  he  pursues  are 
such  as  few  engage  in,  and  remove  him  in  large 
measure  from  the  intellectual  sympathies  of  his 
fellow-men.  From  of  old  they  have  been  considered 
sacred  studies,  that  imparted  a  kind  of  sanctity  to 
the  men  that  pursued  them.  This  circumstance 
alone  was  sufficient  to  remove  the  profession  to  a 
holy  seclusion,  and  raise  its  members  to  a  pedestal  of 
peculiar    distinction.     The   traditions   of    mankind 


14 

have  associated  the  calling  with  mystery.  Privileges 
have  been  accorded  to  it ;  it  has  been  protected  by 
law  and  custom.  The  person  of  the  clergyman  has 
been  guarded  with  special  care,  as  if  his  life  were 
more  valuable  to  the  community  than  the  life  of 
another  man.  His  property  has  been  exempted  from 
taxation.  Offences  against  him  have  been  branded 
with  a  special  stigma,  and  punished  with  special 
severity.  The  clergyman  has  been  regarded  as  the 
bearer  of  a  divine  message  ;  he  has  been  consecrated 
by  the  imposition  of  hands ;  credited  with  more 
than  human  wisdom,  the  wisdom  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
His  teachings  were  received  as  the  teachings  of  reve- 
lation. He  was  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  a 
supernatural  power  to  discern  and  to  impart  truth. 
In  a  word,  he  was  listened  to  as  an  oracle  with  a 
docility  and  reverence  bestowed  on  no  other  instruc- 
tor. In  fact,  he  was  not  looked  on  as  an  instructor 
at  all,  but  rather  as  a  prophet,  bearing  a  commission 
from  the  Lord. 

That  people  after  a  time  at  least,  hold  themselves 
at  the  estimate  that  others  put  upon  them,  is  a  fact 
of  general  obs.ervation.  That  these  men  should 
form  no  exception  to  the  general  experience,  was  to 
be  expected.  The  clerical  profession  became  an 
order,  and  took  on  all  the  peculiarities  of  an  order : 
tlie  exclusiveness,  the  loftiness,  the  self-complacence. 


15 

the  assumption  of  superior  Avisdom  and  virtue,  the 
habit  of  speaking  as  with  authority  on  moral  ques- 
tions, and  of  judging  men  and  manners  hy  a  standard 
of  its  own.  It  did  not  teach,  it  enunciated  ;  it  did 
not  instruct,  it  commanded ;  it  did  not  advise,  it 
laid  down  the  law  ;  it  did  not  reason,  it  asserted  and 
judged.  Of  course,  in  the  profession  there  are,  and 
have  always  been,  men  who  were  quite  above  the 
clerical  spirit,  who  lamented  it  in  others  and  earnestly 
tried  to  eradicate  it  from  their  own  bosoms.  But 
only  superior  minds  have  been  able  to  do  this.  In 
the  body  of  the  clergy  the  clerical  spirit  ran  high 
and  prevailed.  Other  professions  have  loudly  pro- 
tested against  its  pretensions.  Lawyers  have  resented 
the  sharp  criticism  on  the  ethics  of  their  profession, 
from  men  who  had  never  made  it  a  study  or  taken 
pains  to  become  acquainted  with  the  conditions  of 
it-s  practice.  Merchants  have  been  restless  under 
the  frequent  aspersions  that  were  cast  upon  tlie 
methods  of  business  by  men  whose  habits  disqualified 
them  for  forming  a  just  opinion  of  the  laws  and  exi- 
gences of  traffic.  Politicians  have  asked  })y  what 
right  men  who  were,  from  the  necessity  of  the  case, 
unfamiliar  with  practical  politics,  sat  in  high  judg- 
ment on  men  whose  whole  lives  were  spent  in  the 
management  of  state  and  municipal  affairs,  and  could 
tell  as  no  others  could,  what  any  special   exigency 


16 

required.  There  was  something  exasperating  in  the 
tone  of  infallibility  which  was  used  when  argument 
would  have  been,  to  say  the  least,  more  becoming. 
But  so  long  as  any  body  of  men  are  made  the  reposi- 
tory of  the  Divine  grace  and  the  mouthpieces  of  an 
absolute  law,  what  other  than  this  could  be  looked 
for? 

A  good  example  of  the  Pharisaism  of  the  clerical 
spirit  is  given  in  the  attitude  of  the  clergy  towards 
the  dramatic  calling.  We  have  here  an  exhibition 
of  pure  Pharisaism.  The  profession  of  the  actor  is 
denounced  simply  as  a  profession,  without  regard  to 
the  personal  character  of  the  men  or  women  who 
engage  in  it.  The  average  of  this  may,  everywhere 
and  in  all  times,  be  lower  than  it  ought  to  be,  nay, 
absolutely  low.  But  this  has  not  been  the  point 
considered.  In  places  and  times  when  it  has  not 
been  so ;  when  the  stage  has  been  adorned  by  men 
and  women  of  culture,  refinement  and  goodness, 
the  same  anathema  has  been  declared  against  it.  No 
private  work  was  permitted  to  reflect  credit  on  the 
theatrical  calling,  or  was  fairly  recognized  at  its 
value  by  professors  of  religion.  "  Player  and  vaga- 
bond "  were  used  as  synonymous  terms.  Macklin, 
the  London  actor,  having  contributed  generously  to 
a  public  charity,  declined  to  give  his  profession  with 
his  name,  not  choosing  to  be  published  as  a  vagrant. 


17 

Macready,  prominent  in  private  purity  and  gentle- 
manliness  as  he  was  in  professional  talent,  bemoans 
all  through  his  diaries,  the  disrepute  in  which  his 
vocation  was  held.  The  older  Churches  of  Rome  and 
of  England  were  more  tolerant.  But  the  "  evangeli- 
cal" churches  always  and  everywhere  have  looked 
on  the  stage  with  abhorrence.  No  good  influence 
whatever  was  conceded  to  it ;  no  power  for  good  was 
admitted  in  it ;  no  allowance  was  made  for  the  moral 
improvements  that. time  brought  about;  for  the 
harmless  accompaniments  and  associations  of  decent 
periods.  It  was  all  bad.  The  revivalists  of  England, 
enumerating  the  triumphs  of  the  cross,  dwell  with 
special  emphasis  on  the  conversions  of  actors.  The 
judgment  is  not  human :  it  is  ofl&cial.  The  theatre 
is  counted  one  of  the  devices  of  Satan,  and  as  such 
is  put  under  condemnation.  Of  the  comparative  vir- 
tues and  vices  of  the  two  professions,  the  clerical 
dangers  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  dramatic  dangers 
on  the  other,  no  account  is  made.  It  is  assumed 
that  on  the  one  side  there  is  all  virtue,  on  the  other 
side  all  is  vice.  The  sins  of  the  professors  of  religion 
are  overlooked  or  excused.  The  excellencies  of  the 
professors  of  the  histrionic  art  are  overlooked  or  ex- 
plained away.  In  the  one  calling  all  the  conditions 
are  supposed  to  make  for  saintliness ;  in  the  other  all 
the  conditions  are   supposed  to  make  for  deviltry. 


18 

It  is  "sheer  Pharisaism  which  seems  to  say  all  the 
time :  "  Stand  aside ;  I  am  holier  than  thou,"  with- 
out any  disposition  to  inquire  whether  it  is  holier  or 
not. 

In  saying  this  no  claim  is  advanced  in  behalf  of 
tlie  theatrical  profession.  It  is  freely  granted  that 
actors  and  actresses  are  exposed  to  peculiar  tempta- 
tions in  directions  which  the  clergy  know  nothing 
of  and  can  only  imagine.  They,  too,  form  a  class 
and  an  exclusive  one.  They  live  apart  from  society 
in  a  world  of  their  own,  cut  off  from  the  world  by 
the  condition  of  their  calling,  which  makes  demand 
on  the  evening  hours,  and  exacts  their  attention 
during  the  most  important  part  of  every  day.  The 
theatre  is  their  world,  the  stage  their  public  sphere  : 
the  players  are  their  companions.  With  these  com- 
panions they  are  thrown  into  very  close  intimacy  in 
public  as  well  as  in  private.  The  plays  they  enact 
are  at  once  literature  and  life  to  them.  They  have 
time  to  study  little  else  and  that  study  carries  them 
away  into  scenes  remote  from  the  existence  around 
them,  into  a  world  that  is  unreal  and  illusory. 
Everything  conspires  to  make  them  a  class  by  them- 
selves. As  a  class  by  themselves,  they  have  habits, 
manners,  modes  of  dress,  conversation,  behavior  that 
are  peculiar.  Their  views  of  life,  cast  of  sentiment, 
rules  and  standards  of  judgment  are  unlike  those  of 


19 

other  people.  They  have  their  pet  notions,  likes 
and  dislikes,  attractions  and  aversions,  prejudices 
and  bigotries.  Their  morality  is  the  morality  of  a 
class ;  it  is  not  pulpit  morality,  or  New  Testament 
morality,  or  legal  morality,  or  conventional  morality ; 
it  is  the  morality  of  an  order.  In  their  way  they  are* 
Pharisees.  Their  estimate  of  the  clergy  is,  as  a  rule, 
little  if  any  higher  than  the  clergy's  estimate  of 
them.  They  can  be  severe,  satirical,  scornful.  Their 
self-sufficiency  is  not  concealed.  The  Puritan  finds 
little  mercy  at  their  hands.  The  wor.d  "  hypocrite  " 
jumps  readily  to  their  lips. 

The  Pharisee  is  of  no  class,  but  of  every  class. 
He  is  an  expression  of  the  class  spirit.  The  "  Bohe- 
mian "  may  be  a  Pharisee  as  lofty  in  his  pretensions 
as  the  Conventionalist.  There  is  no  Pharisee  so 
arrogant  in  assumption  as  the  reformer  or  protestant 
who  denounces  Pharisees. 

One  of  the  most  mischievous  effects  of  the  ex- 
clusive spirit  is  its  complete  arrest  of  national 
morality.  It  constitutes  so  many  small  schools  of 
morality,  each  sufficient  to  itself,  and  so  prevents  the 
attainment  of  any  general  principle  of  virtue  that 
shall  have  the  same  binding  force  on  everybody.  It 
sets  virtue  against  virtue,  rule  against  rule,  and 
standard  against  standard,  and  so  makes  moral 
appreciation  and  sympathy  impossible.      We   have 


20 

none  but  class  ethics;  no  scientific,  no  human 
ethics.  There  is  a  technical  morality  of  the  bar 
which  barristers  alone  are  supposed  competent  to 
understand.  It  is  created  by  the  relation  between 
the  lawyer  and  the  client,  a  technical  relation  which 
imposes  duties  of  a  technical  character,  and  implies 
obligations  or  release  from  obligations,  according  to 
a  code  which  binds  the  initiated  but  none  others. 
The  perfect  reconciliation  of  this  code  with  what  is 
called  absolute  morality  has  never  been  effected. 
There  is  the  technical  morality  of  trade,  fashioned 
by  the  necessities  of  making  money.  The  trader,  as 
a  trader,  apparently  feels  justified  in  adopting 
maxims  and  pursuing  courses  of  conduct  that  can 
hardly  be  held  consistent  with  fraternal  dealings  be- 
tween man  and  man.  Commissioners  and  agents  in- 
terpret the  moral  law  often  in  a  manner  and  practise 
it  after  a  most  eccentric  fashion.  Exaggerating 
favorable  incidents,  concealing  inconvenient  facts, 
drawing  loose  contracts,  taking  advantage  of  ignor- 
ance, weakness  or  necessity,  all  on  the  plea  that 
"  business  is  business,"  and  as  business  means  profit, 
whatever  is  necessarj^  to  the  increase  of  profit  is 
allowable.  On  this  plea — good  "  Christians  "  will 
overcrowd  tenement  houses,  neglect  to  provide  fire 
escapes,  or  proper  sewerage,  will  rent  their  premises  to 
gamblers,  prostitutes  and  dram-sellers,  will  "  corner  " 


21 

gold  or  grain,  or  cotton,  will  "  water "  stocks  and 
weaken  securities.  The  politician  has  his  code 
fashioned  for  the  needs  of  men  who  trade  in  the 
work  of  electing  candidates  to  office.  With  us  this 
is  a  distinct  profession,  with  secret  rules  and 
mysteries,  comprehended  by  none  save  the  initi- 
ated. 

This  is  no  fancied  evil,  but  a  grave  mischief, 
apart  from  the  jealousies  and  bigotries,  the  rancors, 
and  feuds  attending  it.  The  scientific  moralist,  in 
his  efforts  to  lay  the  basis  for  moral  rules  that  shall 
bind  all  men  alike,  is  thwarted  at  every  turn  by  these 
sectional  barriers,  that  render  mutual  understanding 
and  co-operation  impossible.  The  spirit  of  the  clique 
is  fatal  to  the  spmt  of  humanity. 

If  there  is  need  of  one  thing  more  than  another 
in  this  world  of  practice  and  judgment,  it  is  of 
sympathy;  not  sentimental,  but  moral  and  intellec- 
tual ;  the  purpose  and  endeavor,  on  the  part  of  sects, 
classes,  orders,  persons,  to  put  themselves  in  their 
neighbor's  place;  to  interpret  opposite  views,  es- 
tablishments, parties  from  the  inside,  instead  of  the 
outside.  It  is  a  task  of  imagination  and  reflection, 
but  of  no  more  imagination  and  reflection  than  in- 
telligent people  in  this  age  of  the  world  ought  to  be 
capable  of,  or  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  being  incap- 
able of.     Two  points  are  worthy  of  being  kept  in 


22 

steady  remembrance,  first,  that  the  world  is  very- 
wide,  and  includes  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  ; 
second,  that  these  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  are 
from  the  necessity  of  the  case,  fellow  workers  and 
fellow  dependents.  These  two  points  are  simply 
and  practically  true,  and  the  consideration  of  them 
is  of  the  utmost  moment. 

Sentimentalism  apart,  the  sentimentalism  of 
natural  feeling,  and  the  sentimentalism  of  religion, 
which  makes  so  much  of  the  common  nature  of  man- 
kind, their  common  origin  and  destiny,  the  common 
providence  and  common  allotment,  all  go  hard  to 
realize.  Sentimentalism  apart,  it  is  true  as  daily, 
practical  experience,  that  men  are,  by  the  conditions 
of  their  earthly  existence,  fellow  workers  and  fellow 
dependents.  The  tasks  of  life,  the  responsibilities  of 
life,  the  burdens  of  life,  are  distributed  among  them, 
not  so  unequally  as  is  usually  imagined.  No  class 
has  all  the  knowledge.  None  has  all  the  wisdom,  or 
all  the  prudence  or  all  the  goodness.  No  class  is 
entitled  to  insult  or  impose  on,  or  browbeat  another. 
No  class  is  entitled  to  plume  itself  on  peculiar  priv- 
ileges, or  to  claim  pre-eminence  on  the  score  of 
special  rank,  dignity  or  value  of  service.  We  talk 
about  "  privileged  classes."  Strictly  speaking,  there 
are  no  privileged  classes  in  the  sense  of  classes  set 
apart  from  or   above   the  rest,  as  demi-gods  te-  be 


23 

worshipped,  or  princes  to  be  served.  The  word 
"  privilege  "  is  the  aristocratic  word  for  opportunity 
and  accountability.  "  He  that  is  chief  among  you 
shall  be  your  servant."  The  use  of  a  reservoir  is  to 
feed  the  city,  not  to  exhaust  it.  One  has  power  to 
make  money,  another  has  talent,  another  has  personal 
attraction;  one  can  teach,  another  can  influence, 
another  can  stimulate,  another  can  amuse.  Let  each 
do  his  part  rendering  its  full  due  to  each  of  the 
others.  We  cannot  exchange  gifts,  or  situations  or 
parts.  In  the  work  of  society  it  would  be  difficult 
to  decide  which  class  is  most  important  or  which 
could  most  readily  be  spared.  None  can  be  spared : 
all  are  important.  In  magnifying  one's  office  th^re 
is  no  particular  harm,  provided  the  office  is  better 
administered  so.  In  rivalry  of  parties  there  is  no 
harm,  provided  the  rivalry  do  not  become  jealousy  or 
antipathy. 

It  is  not  enough  that  classes  should  be  tolerant 
of  one  another,  they  must  appreciate  one  another ; 
they  must  cordially  recognize  the  fact  of  their  mutual 
dependence  ;  they  must  frankly  admit  that  opposites 
require  opposites,  that  extremes  demand  extremes ; 
that  foes  are  friends  in  disguise — that  antagonists 
are  educators.  The  prince  would  die  but^  for  the 
peasant,   the   capitalist   would   starve   but  for   the 


24 

laborer.  The  poor  need  the  rich,  but  what  would 
be  the  condition  of  the  rich  if  there  were  no  poor  ? 
The  simple  need  the  wise,  but  what  would  wisdom 
be  worth  if  there  were  none  to  teach,  guide,  instruct, 
enlarge  ?  The  grieving  need  the  glad,  but  scarcely 
more  than  the  glad  need  the  grieving,  scarcely  so 
much.  The  vicious  would  perish  but  for  the  virtuous, 
but  the  very  virtue  of  the  virtuous  would  decline  if 
it  were  not  trained,  educated,  shaped,  sharpened  by 
perpetual  contact  with  the  vicious.  Sinners  need 
saints ;  but  without  sinners  saints  would  have  no 
vocation.  Sinners  ought  to  be  perpetual  admoni- 
tions to  saints ;  saints  ought  to  be  perpetual  en- 
couragements to  sinners.  What  would  sick  people 
do  without  the  strong  and  well  to  take  care  of 
them  ?  What  would  the  strong  and  well  do  without 
the  sick  to  take  care  of?  I  have  seen  able  men  and 
women  disconsolate  when  some  poor  bed-ridden  inva- 
lid had  been  taken  from  them  by  merciful  death.  They 
were  more  dependent  on  the  patient  than  the  patient 
was  on  them. 

y  Among  those  who  call  Jesus  Master,  there  should 
be  no  uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  character  of  the 
Pharisaian  spirit,  and  no  doubt  as  to  its  essential  in- 
humanity. 

The  Jew  hated  the  Samaritan,  but  Jesus  is  de- 
scribed as  imparting  his  deepest  thought  to  a  Samar- 


2o 

itaii  woman.  The  Pluirisoc  liated  tlie  publican,  ])ut 
Jesus  is  described  as  accepting  hospitality  in  a  publi- 
can's house.  The  ordinary  Pharisee  hunted  Jesus  to 
death  as  a  revolutionist  and  a  blasphemer  ;  but  the  in- 
telligent Pharisee,  like  Nicodemus,  seeks  friendly  rela- 
tion with  him  and  honestly  tries  to  fathom  his  thought. 
So  should  it  be.  All  together,  men  are  not  strong 
enough  to  waste  vigor  in  envies,  jealousies,  hates  and 
divisions.  We  cannot  afford  to  draw  so  heavily  on 
our  very  moderate  stock  of  fraternity  as  Pharisaism 
requires.  All  our  combined  energy  is  demanded  to 
discover  truth  and  establish  righteousness  and  insti- 
tute brotherhood.  For  as  a  great  teacher  has  said, 
"  it  is  the  bond  of  sympathy  that  distinguishes  the 
social  man  from  the  savage :  that  renders  society  a 
possible  thing ;  on  its  increased  strength  the  future 
ameliorations  of  man's  estate  mainly  depend,  and  by 
its  ultimate  supremacy  human  freedom  and  happiness 
must  be  secured. 


THE  CARDINAL'S  BERRETTA. 

/ 

The  ceremony  by  which  the  Cap  of  the  Cardinal 
was  conferred  on  an  archbishop  of  the  Romish 
Church  deserves  mention  as  one  of  those  acts  which 
may  mean  much  for  religion  in  America.  Whether  it 
means  all  that  some  think  it  does,  may  be  doubted; 
but  at  all  events  it  means  something,  and  something 
to  be  pondered.  An  American  citizen  has  been 
made  a  Senator  in  the  Pontifical  Government,  an 
intimate  counsellor  of  the  Pope,  a  secular  prince 
only  inferior  in  rank  to  a  king.  An  American 
bishop  has  been  clothed  with  all  but  supreme  juris- 
diction in  the  western  branch  of  his  Church,  has 
been  invested  with  power  to  grant  dispensations,  and 
to  lift  up  a  potential  voice  in  the  general  councils, 
in  which,  according  to  some,  the  Church  utters  the 
mind  of  the  Almighty. 

This  honor,  which  the  Pope  alone  can  confer, 
was  bestowed  in  presence  of  a  vast  audience,  some 
attending   from    curiosity,  others    attracted  by  the 


s  how,  many  drawn  by  sympathy  with  a  great  multi- 
tude of  people ;  not  a  few  exulting  in  the  demon- 
stration of  power  on  the  part  of  the  ancient  Church ; 
more  than  a  few  wondering  what  the  ceremony  por- 
tended. The  badge  of  ecclesiastical  royalty  was 
conferred  avowedly  as  a  mark  of  distinction,  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  power  and  zeal  of  the  Catholic 
C  hurch  in  America.  It  was  al^o  designed,  it  is  fair 
to  suppose,  to  increase  that  power  and  zeal,  to  add 
lustre  to  the  Faith  in  the  new  world,  to  unite  its  pro- 
fessors by  fresh  bonds  of  allegiance  to  the  Head  in 
Rome,  and  to  elevate  the  Church  on  this  continent  to 
an  equal  rank  with  the  Church  in  the  old  world. 
They,  perhaps,  are  not  mistaken  who  see  a  political 
design  in  the  act,  a  purpose  to  infuse  a  despotic  ele- 
ment into  our  institutions.  They  certainly  a^re  not 
mistaken  who  perceive  a  religious  purpose  in  it,  a 
design  to  exalt,  glorify  and  aggrandize  the  faith  of 
Rome.  It  will  be  timely,  therefore,  to  consider  how 
far  that  faith,  simply  as  a  faith,  without  regard  to 
any  political  ideas  or  associations,  merely  as  a  form  of 
religion,  should  be  welcomed  by  us. 

It  is  common  to  make  a  wide  distinction  be- 
tween the  Church  as  a  government,  and  the  Church 
as  a  religion ;  and  to  eulogize  it  in  its  latter  capacity, 
while  denouncing  it  in  the  former.  As  a  .dominion 
we  hear  it  said,  the  Church  of  Rome  is  detestable : 


as  a  religion  it  is  admirable.  It  is  the  worst  despot- 
ism and  the  best  cultus  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
In  secular  affairs  it  shows  itself  the  enemy  of  civil- 
ization and  the  oppressor  of  mankind.  In  the  spirit- 
ual realm  it  is  supreme  in  loveliness  as  it  is  in 
majesty.  I  have  heard  liberals  call  it  a  perfect  form 
of  religion,  and  express  an  entire  willingness  that  it 
should  be  extended  as  a  Faith,  provided  it  could  be 
detached  from  all  connection  with  civil  affairs.  Is  it 
a  perfect  form  of  religion  ?  That  is  a  question  I  in- 
vite you  to  consider  this  morning.  Taking  it  in  its 
best  aspect,  taking  it  at  its  own  estimate,  is  it  the 
best  form  of  religion  ?  Is  it  best  for  any  class  of 
people  ?  Is  it  best  for  any  stage  of  culture  ?  Is  it 
best  for  any  purposes  of  society  ?  Is  it  so  much  better 
than  any  other  that,  simply  as  a  religion,  without 
reference  to  its  affinities  or  affiliations  in  other  re- 
spects, we  should  feel  like  encouraging  its  growth,  or 
can  even  look  with  patience  on  its  extension  ?  That 
the  religion  has  been  of  great  service  to  humanity  in 
its  day,  preserving  the  pure  quality  of  the  heart  from 
pollution,  and  keeping  the  wings  of  aspijation  steady 
in  a  sky  black  with  clouds  and  stormy  with  gusts  of 
wind,  is  not  to  the  purpose.  The  day  before  yester- 
day is  not  to-day ;  and  the  issue  before  us  is  an 
issue  of  to-day,  and  the  years  that  shall  succeed  to-day. 
The  Catholic  Religion  is  commended  on  several  dis- 


tinct  grounds ;  not  by  Catholics  only,  but  by  Prot- 
estants ;  and  not  by  these  only,  but  by  rationalists, 
who  look  on  religion  as  an  affair  of  social  police,  at 
best  as  an  affair  of  public  taste.  It  is  on  these 
grounds  that  I  should  wish  to  try  it. 

I.  It  is  commended  as  a  system  that  brings  the 
moral  and  spiritual  conceptions  within  the  reach  of 
uneducated  people,  who,  if  they  apprehend  such 
things  at  all,  must  apprehend  them  by  the  senses. 
It  is  a  sensuous  faith,  a  religion  of  form,  sound,  color, 
demonstration.  Instead  of  an  idea  it  gives  an  image ; 
instead  of  a  sentiment,  it  presents  a  symbol.  Where 
Protestantism  preaches  about  the  dying  God  and  the 
Atonement,  Romanism  sets  up  a  crucifix  by  the  way- 
side. Where  Protestantism  dogmatizes  about  Christ, 
Romanism  paints  a  picture  of  him.  Where  Protes- 
tantism appeals  to  conscience,  Romanism  opens  a 
confessional.  Where  Protestantism  speculates  on  th*e 
mystery  of  the  Godhead,  Romanism  celebrates  a  Mass. 
Where  Protestantism  describes  virtues,  Romanism 
groups  angels  and  saints,al ways  embodying  its  thought 
in  visible  sh^pe.  Eyes,  ears,  fingers,  lips  are  allowed 
the  privileges  commonly  presumed  to  be  granted 
only  to  intelligence.  Put  the  best  construction  on 
all  this.  Drop  the  charge  of  idolatry ;  admit  that 
the  image,  picture,  sign,  ceremony,  is  only  symboli- 
cal ;   that  the  thing  is  not  an  object  of  adoration. 


but  only  a  sensible  help  to  it.  Pass  ])y  the  obvious 
danger  that  rude  people  Avill  be  unal)le  to  hold  fast 
the  fine  distinction  between  the  image  and  the  god 
it  represents;  we  must  still  ask,  does  this  system  of 
signs  and  symbols  perform  the  duty  of  a  religion  ? 
The  visitor  in  any  European  Cathedral  will  be 
capable  of  answering  the  question ;  and  the  answer 
will  be  emphatic,  the  nearer  the  cathedral  is  to  the 
heart  of  the  faith ;  more  emphatic  in  Italy  than  in 
Germany ;  more  emphatic  in  Rome  than  in  Florence. 
The  old  proverb  comes  true  everywhere,  that 
familiarity  breeds  contempt.  They  who  can  see  or 
touch  their  deities  do  not  as  a  rule  revere  them. 
How  much  veneration  has  the  idolater  who  calls  his 
uncompliant  God  by  hard  names,  beats  him,  hauls 
him  down  from  his  pedestal,  and  drags  him  through 
the  streets,  as  punishment  for  not  gratifying  the 
supplicant's  desires,  and  then,  on  a  change  of  fortune, 
goes  to  him,  picks  him  up  from  the  dunghill,  washes 
him,  gives  him  a  fresh  coat  of  paint,  restores  him  to 
his  pedestal,  makes  apology  for  his  rudeness,  but 
hopes  he  will  be  quicker  with  his  favors  in  the 
future  ?  To  the  uninstructed  and  unspiritual,  the 
symbol,  instead  of  revealing  the  Divinity,  obstructs 
him.  We  are  touched  hj  the  sight  of  the  devotees 
kneeling  absorbed  in  devotion,  on  the  floor  of  some 
ancient  church.     But  their  faces  are  wholly  devoid 


of  expression.  It  is  only  in  semblance  that  they 
worship.  They  will  suspend  their  prayer  in  a 
moment  to  ask  alms ;  they  are  mendicants  in  the 
guise  of  devotees.  In  countries  where  sensuous  re- 
ligions prevail,  the  religious  sentiments,  awe,  rever- 
ence, aspiration,  humility,  are  very  low;  all  senti- 
ment is  low.  In  the  common  people  religious  feeling 
scarcely  exists  at  all.  The  painted  god  does  not  ful- 
fill the  ofl&ce  or  communicate  the  presence  of  the 
living  God.  < 

Every  fresh  outbreak  of  religious  faith  has  been 
attended  by  the  destruction  of  images.  It  was  so  in 
Judea,  as  the  prophetic  writings  tell;  in  Asia,  in 
Arabia,  when  Mahomet  began  his  reform ;  in  Italy, 
in  Germany,  in  England,  when  Puritanism  arose. 
The  advent  of  the  living  God  into  the  mind,  has  ever 
swept  images  away,  as  the  fresh  wind  clears  the  air 
of  flies.  It  was  by  absolutely  forbidding  images 
representing  Divine  things  under  any  form  that 
Israel  maintained  its  faith  as  it  did  in  lands  and  ages 
given  over  to  idolatry.  The  faith  of  Israel  has  been 
a  more  intellectual  and  spiritual  faith  in  Europe 
than  Christianity ;  and  to-day  it  surpasses  in  these 
prime  respects  the  average  religion  even  of  Protes- 
tant Christendom.  The  religion  was  from  the  be- 
ginning a  training  to  the  mind.  By  making  inces- 
sant   demands    on    thought,    and    conscience,    by 


limiting  the  sway  of  fancy  and  sentiment,  by  re- 
moving the  sensible  props,  and  compelling  reason  to 
use  its  own  eyes,  grasp  with  its  own  fingers  and 
stand  on  its  own  feet,  it  roused  a  mental  and  moral 
activity  that  have  been  invaluable  in  the  experience 
of  the  race.  The  education  was  a  severe  one  ;  the 
.  back-slidings  were  numerous ;  the  lapses  into 
seduction,  idolatries,  were  frequent  and  deplorable, 
the  recovery  from  them  was  painful  and  slow ;  but 
the  end  reached  was  worth  all  the  effort  spent. 

The  supremacy  of  intelligence  is  of  such  vast 
moment,  the  training  of  intelligence  is  of  such  in- 
finite difl&culty,  that  as  soon  as  possible  we  take 
away  the  child's  picture  books  and  substitute 
thoughts  for  fancies.  Shall  we  think  it  wise  to 
adopt  a  different  method  in  religion  ?  To  the  asser- 
tion that  the  religion  of  Rome  is  still  the  best  re- 
ligion for  the  childish  mind,  I  feel  like  replying,  it 
is  precisely  for  the  childish  mind  or  the  mind  thought 
to  be  childish,  the  mind  uneducated  and  immature, 
that  it  is  not  the  best.  Cultivated  minds  can  appre- 
ciate symbols  and  use  them  safely ;  uncultivated 
minds  cannot.  The  illusions  that  are  harmless  to 
the  enlightened,  to  the  unenlightened  may  be  fatally 
bewildering  and  mischievous.  The  sign  to  them 
soon  becomes  a  divinity,  and  a  divinity  that  does  no  t 
help.      Not  helping,  it  is  neglected,  then  discarded, 


10 

and  in  place  of  a  religion,  the  baffled,  cheated  man 
has  the  opposite  thing  superstition,  which  is  coarse 
and  degrading  in  proportion  as  the  symbol  has  been 
revered.  With  people  of  intelligence,  refinement, 
and  sensibility,  whose  minds  are  occupied  with  solid 
thoughts,  whose  hands  are  busy  with  useful  work, 
the  religion  of  Rome  may  be  harmless  ;  but  for  the . 
crude  and  imaginative,  who  can  only  change  its 
poetry  into  vulgar  prose,  it  is  no  more  nourishing 
than  pearls  are  to  swine. 

II.  The  religion  of  Rome  is  commended  as  being 
a  religion  of  beauty.  Artists  esteem  highly  this 
aspect  of  it.  It  has  in  truth  stepped  into  a  glorious 
inheritance  of  architecture,  painting,  music,  scenic 
decoration,  and  display.  The  court  of  Rome  is  the 
most  splendid  court  in  Europe,  said  an  artist  to  me, 
in  a  tone  which  implied  that  in  his  judgement  the 
splendor  was  compensation  for  other  qualities  not  so 
admirable.  The  daughter  of  a  clergyman  who  had 
given  the  years  of  a  long  and  devoted  life  to  the 
preaching  of  a  pure  spiritual  faith,  gave  as  a  reason 
for  attending  the  Catholic  Church  on  her  father's 
decease,  that  the  music  was  finer  there  than  any 
where  else.  Truth,  or  what  commended  itself  to  her 
as  truth,  she  found  nowhere ;  but  here  she  found 
what  she  found  nowhere  else — ^beauty,  which  was 
good  wherever  it  grew.     The  prayers  were  in  Latin, 


11 

the  sermons  were  short,  the  ceremony  she  paid  no 
attention  to ;  but  the  organ  and  choir  enchanted  her. 
But  for  the  sake  of  listening  to  fine  music  is  it  worth 
while  to  support  a  faith  whose  doctrine  one  rejects, 
whose  spirit  one  repudiates,  whose  influence  over 
mankind  is  felt  not  to  be  ennobling?  Beauty  is 
attractive,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  paying  for  it 
more  than  it  is  worth.  It  were  better  to  forego  it 
altogether  than  to  enjoy  it  at  the  expense  of  sin- 
cerity and  truth. 

The  beauty  that  adorns  the  religion  of  Rome  is  but 
partially  her  own  creation.  The  best  architecture, 
sculpture,  painting  are  products  of  that  glorious  pagan 
world  of  which  she  was  the  successor  and  the  heir. 
Even  her  gorgeous  ceremonies  and  displays  of  color 
were  borrowed  from  ancient  faiths  she  has  stripped 
and  repudiated.  Our  genuine  admiration  of  these 
should  then  be  transferred  to  the  people  whose  genius 
created,  whose  taste  shaped  them.  They  should 
carry  the  mind  away  to  a  world  older  than  Christen- 
dom, when  thought  was  free  and  feeling  fresh  and 
creative  power  in  full  vigor.  There  was  the  beauty 
loving  religion.  And  yet  the  beauty  loving  religion 
did  not  elevate  or  sanctify.  Beauty  alone  will  not 
make  a  religion.  Who  then,  that  has  a  religion  or 
esteems  the  character  of  religion,  will  sa-crifice  it  to 
beauty  ?     Get  your  religion  first,  then  make  it  lovely 


12 

as  you  can.  But  to  take  the  loveliness  without  re- 
gard to  the  religion  it  decorates  and  conceals  is  cer- 
tainly not  the  part  of  thoughtful  people. 

And  when  we  think  of  the  beauty,  shall  we  for- 
get how  much  there  is  that  is  not  beautiful  at  all, 
but  is  inexpressibly  hideous — ^how  much  of  the  ar- 
chitecture is  marred  by  additions  which  the  religion 
is  responsible  for ;  how  many  cathedrals  otherwise 
glorious  are  disfigured  by  tawdry  shrines,  tinsel  or- 
naments, altars  covered  with  pewter  toys?  Shall 
we  forget  the  revolting  images,  the  horrible  paint- 
ings on  canvass  or  ceiling,  the  grotesque  carvings, 
the  dolorous  chants  which  the  religion  has  given 
authorship  to?  If  all  superstitions  were  beautiful 
we  might  feel  more  tenderly  towards  them.  But 
very  few  are ;  none  are  to  minds  uneducated  to 
beauty.  All  illusions  are  dangerous  to  people  who 
cannot  see  that  they  are  illusions ;  and  the  people 
who  can  see  are  able  to  do  without  them.  Would 
that  all  religion  were  made  more  beautiful  than  it  is, 
by  art  and  music,  by  form  and  color.  Would  that 
our  churches  were  handsomer  than  they  are,  with 
pictures  and  statues  and  carvings  in  stone  and  wood. 
But  I  would  rather  see  them  balder  than  the  baldest 
of  them  are,  than  have  them  richer  at  the  cost  of 
that  which  is  worth  more  than  all  grace  and  splen- 
dor— the  Spirit  of  truth — Sanctifyer  and  Comforter. 


II r.    l>ut.  it  is  iiru'fd  a'^'ain.  this    icli-ioii  is  a  rdi- 
i^'ion  for  the  Heart,  ^\"]lil(■  i'rolt'>iaiit  ism  is  a  rt'Ii^ioi) 
of  llic    Head.      Perhaps   it'    Pi-()le>laiil  i>iii    lieitcr  (h-- 
served   to   be    called   a    reli^'ion    of    the   liead.    ihei'e 
would  be  less  demand  for   a  I'eligiou  of  tlie   heai't. 
"I   have  at  last   foimd   my  mother  I  ""  said   a   iioltle 
lady  whose  eager  sold  tired  of  spectilatiou  and  woni 
by  tlisai^pointnient,  accepted    at  last  tlie-  thong] it  of 
rest  as  all  soothing  and  suilicient.     And  this  is  a  fre- 
quent feeling.     The  thought  of  rest  is  so  sweet,  that 
even  those  who  do   not   need    it   thiid-:   they  do,  and 
dream  tenderly  of  the  ancient  church  iliat  takes  its 
suffering  lonely  children  in   its  arms,  folds   them  in 
its  bosom,  hushes  their  cries,  stills  their  fears,  allays 
their  apprehensions,  and  permits  sorrow  and  remorse 
to    sleep.     Sentimental   jieople    say :     '•  we    A\'ant  a 
warm,  loving  religion ;  not  a  religion    that   calls  on 
us  to  think,  but  a  religion  that  is  satisfied  if  we  feel ; 
that  in  short  is  content  to  make   us  feel,  while  it 
does  our  thinking  for  us." 

Do  the  people  who  deeply  feel,  make  this  com- 
plaint of  rational  faith?  Has  it  ever  been  hjund 
that  that  discourages  feeling,  or  would  accept  spec- 
ulation in  place  of  it?  A  religion  of  heart.  1)}"  all 
means ;  all  religion  is  religion  of  heart  ;  without 
heart  there  is  no  religion.  But  what  is  meant  l>y 
heart?     I   always  suspect  when  people   talk   of  re- 


14 

ligion  for  the  heart,  that  they  mean  a  religion  that 
relieves  the  heart  of  the  necessity  of  feeling  at  all,  in 
any  wholesome  manner.  I  am  haunted  by  a  suspi- 
cion that  they  want  to  surrender  their  heart,  as  a 
troublesome  thing  they  cannot  manage — and  would 
f^n  have  cossetted  and  patted  and  sung  to  sleep. 
The  cry  is  for  a  mother  with  smiles  and  caresses, 
sweet  meats  and  soothing  syrup,  who  will  not 
permit  her  darling  to  be  grieved  by  the  loss  of 
its  pretty  playthings.  They  repeat  the  delicious 
text,  "Not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground  without 
your  Father,"  but  forget  <that  the  sparrow  does  fall, 
nevertheless,  with  broken  wing,  a  prey  to  stronger 
plunderers  of  the  air,  A  religion  of  the  heart  that 
encourages  the  heart  in  childish  weaknesses,  is 
rather  a  religion  that  starves  the  heart  than  a  re- 
ligion that  feeds  it. 

A  religion  of  heart  should  be  a  religion  that 
draws  the  heart,  gives  scope  for  its  affections,  sup- 
plies objects  for  its  love  and  fear,  stimulates  and  ex- 
pands its  hope ;  a  religion  that  puts  the  heart  in 
sweet  and  trusting  relation  with  providence,  teaches 
it  to  say  "  Thy  will  be  done,  not  mine ;  here  I  am ; 
take  me ;  use  me ;  do  with  me  what  Thou  wilt :  the 
eternal  law  be  law  for  me ;  the  Divine  love  be  all 
in  all." 

A  warm  human  religion  will  be  a  religion  of  the 


16 

heart;  a  religion  that  recognizes  the  force  of  the 
saying :  "  He  that  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he 
has  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  has  not 
seen."  Romanism  has  been  such  a  faith  in  its  way. 
Her  ministrations  to  human  misery  are  too  many  to 
speak  of,  and  too  famous  to  praise.  They  are  the 
loveliest  features  in  her  life.  But  the  spirit  of  her 
Charity  is  weakening :  for  it  is  a  spirit  of  pity  and 
compassion,  that  regards  human  beings  as  children 
to  be  comforted,  not  as  men  and  women  to  be  stimu- 
lated and  reared.  A  true  religion  of  the  heart  has 
faith  in  the  heart,  and  would  open  within  it  the 
fountains  of  living  water,  that  it  need  come  to  no 
well  to  draw ;  it  will  send  the  heart  out  in  helpful- 
ness, not  compassion,  to  fellow  creatures,  to  remove 
disabilities,  clear  away  obstacles,  extend  opportuni- 
ties, communicate  benefits  and  privileges,  obliterate 
lines  of  division,  pardon  the  offending,  reclaim  the 
wandering,  lift  up  the  fallen.  In  this  respect 
Protestantism  has  been  more  truly  a  religion  of  the 
heart  than  Romanism,  and  Rationalism  has  deserved 
the  name  more  than  either;  for  true  Rationalism, 
when  regarded  in  its  central  idea,  awakens  the  deepest 
truth  in  the  Divine  Providence,  and  the  most  radical 
kindness  towards  men.  It  is  a  religion  of  the  heart, 
because  it  calls  on  the  heart  to  be  worthy  of  itself, 
to   perform  the  offices  of  a  heart.     For   the   unde- 


16 

veloped  heart  of  the  little  cliild,  so  much,  but  so 
vaguely  and  unintelUgently  eulogized,  it  would 
substitute  the  live  heart  of  the  man  or  the  woman, 
who  has,  in  a  measure,  outgrown  the  sense  of  de- 
pendence, and  come  to  know  the  delight  of  having 
others  depend  on  it. 

The  religion  of  Rome  is  often  called  the  religion 
of  childhood — and  in  a  tone  of  commendation  that 
seems  to  imply  a  cordial  justification  of  it  on  this 
ground.  But  supposing  the  multitude  of  mankind 
to  be  in  the  condition  of  childhood — are  we  war- 
ranted in  thinking  they  must  always  remain  there  ? 
Are  we  warranted  in  actively  keeping  them  there,  or 
passively  allowing  them  to  continue  ?  Are  we  war- 
ranted in  praising  the  influences  that  prevent  their 
becoming  adults  ?  Who  was  it  that  said,  "  When  I 
was  a  child  I  spake  as  a  child ;  but  when  I  became  a 
man  I  put  away  childish  things  ?  "  To  pass  from 
emotion  to  sentiment,  from  sentiment  to  feeling,  from 
feeling  to  intelligent  conviction,  from  intelligent 
conviction  to  reasonable  conduct,  is  an  advance  not 
a  retreat. 

The  religion  of  Rome  has  pampered  the  heart 
with  consolations,  has  even  forestalled  its  desires, 
forcing  its  blandishments  on  men  and  women  before 
they  craved  them.  Saints  and  angels,  madonnas  and 
redeemers,  priests  and  sacraments,  so  encompass  the 


17 

believer  that  there  is  no  breathing  space  for  natural 
feeling.  His  feelings  are  artificial;  his  needs  are 
manufactured ;  his  tastes  are  acquired.  Cast  off  the 
leadings  and  let  him  grow. 

IV.  To  others  the  religion  of  Rome  commends 
itself  as  being  a  religion  of  authority.  There  is  here 
no  doubt,  says  its  disciples,  no  endless  questioning, 
no  tantalizing,  torturing  speculation,  no  everlasting 
beating  to  and  fro  among  problems  that  can  never 
be  solved,  no  suspension  between  heaven  and  earth. 
Here  all  possible  questions  are  answered;  all  at- 
tainable knowledge  is  given  on  an  assurance  that 
sets  at  rest  all  cavil.  "I  am  a  Catholic,  said  an 
able  man,  because  as  a  Catholic  I  am  not  obliged 
to  vex  myself  with  the  vain  search  after  truth.  I 
want  to  be  let  alone,  and  to  feel  that  I  am  not  re-, 
sponsible  for  my  opinions  on  divine  things.  The 
Protestant  Churches  are  honey-combed  with  dis- 
belief; the  Liberal  Churches  hold  by  a  few  shreds 
of  faith,  and  are  fast  losing  them ;  the  Rationalists 
have  refined  away  the  religious  ideas  till  their  sub- 
stance is  gone;  philosophy  is  a  series  of  random 
systems,  each  of  which  has  its  say  and  disappears. 
Science  threatens  to  demolish  all  belief  whatever, 
and  become  an  advocate  of  materialism.  To  the- 
human  mind  truth  seems  undiscoverable.  The 
Church  of  Rome  relieves  its  children  from  the  duty 


18 

of  trying  to  discover  it,  and  so  at  once  guards  me 
from  error  and  the  intellectual  world  from  change." 

But  if  one  desires  to  stop  thinking,  why  not  stop 
thinking  where  he  is?  Why  not  accept  without 
misgiving  the  faith  of  childhood?  Why  not  take 
as  final  the  creed  of  Methodism,  Presbyterianism, 
Universalism,  saying :  This  I  hold  to  be  infallible : 
I  will  go  no  further.  All  the  authority  that  any 
Church  has  is  the  authority  its  members  concede  to  it. 
The  claim  to  authority  is  nothing  if  the  claim  be  not 
allowed.  That  is  infallible  to  you  that  you 
clothe  with  infallibility.  We  can  rest  where 
we  are  if  we  will.  We  are  not  compelled  to  read 
philosophy,  or  study  science,  or  make  ourselves  ac- 
quainted with  the  quarrels  of  sects.  It  is  possible 
to  remain  quite  unfamiliar  with  the  speculations  of 
restless  minds.  One  need  not  become  a  Roman 
Catholic  in  order  to  be  vacant-minded.  Un- 
fortunately it  is  only  too  easy  to  be  vacant-minded 
anywhere. 

But  when  shall  we  outgrow  the  notion  that  cer- 
tainty in  regard  to  religions  truths  is  indispensable, 
or  even  desirable?  We  demand  it  of  no  other 
truths.  If  certainty  is  needed  anywhere,  we 
■should  expect  it  or  seek  it  in  matters  that 
concern  us  now — not  that  may  concern  us  here- 
after.     We    would    know     definitely    and    uner- 


19 

ringly,  how  our  children  may  be  saved  from 
untimely  death,  how  our  lives  may  be  made  safe 
against  pestilence,  how  our  persons  may  be  protected 
from  violence,  our  property  from  thieves,  our  moral 
condition  fi-om  vice,  crime  and  sin.  But  we  ask  no 
infallibility  here.  We  are  content  to  remain  in 
doubt  of  a  thousand  things  of  the  most  vital  practical 
concern  to  us.  The  proper  treatment  of  our  bodies ; 
the  best  arrangements  of  our  social  existence ;  the 
best  methods  of  dealing  with  poverty  and  crime.  We 
allow  our  civil  and  political,  and  even  our  sanitary- 
arrangements,  in  which  happiness  and  life  itself — 
the  happiness  and  the  life  of  our  families — ^nay,  of 
our  children  and  grandchildren  are  involved,  to  be 
left  in  the  hands  of  tyros  and  dunces,  not  caring  to 
inquire  often,  though  the  knowledge  may  be  obtained 
for  the  asking :  and  yet  it  is  thought  necessary  to 
have  conclusive  and  infallible  knowledge  respecting 
the  nature  of  the  Creator,  His  designs  in  governing 
the  universe,  His  plans  in  guiding  it,  the  future 
destiny  of  all  human  beings !  Men  are  satis- 
fied with  any  fool's  advice  in  regard  to  matters  of 
tremendous  moment  to  every  portion  of  their  earthly 
existence,  character  included,  and  nothing  less  than 
God's  own  word  will  content  them  when  the  ques- 
tion is  of  their  condition  when  they  shall  be  dead  ! 
We  resent  all  dictation  in  government ;  we  demand 


20 

absolute  authority  in  faith !  We  are  republicans  in 
asserting  our  right  to  control  earthly  affairs  as  we  find 
convenient ;  we  are  monarchists  in  requiring  that 
our  souls  shall  be  submitted  to  an  absolute  king! 
But  it  is  precisely  in  the  department  of  religious 
belief  that  authority  should  be  rejected.  Why 
should  it  be  thought  necessary  for  all  people  to  con- 
cern themselves  with  subjects  so  much  beyond  their 
comprehension  ?  Or  why,  if  it  is  necessary,  should 
they  not  be  free  to  concern  themselves,  each  in  his 
own  way  ?  Seeing  that  the  themes  are  so  vague  and 
so  vast,  that  they  present  themselves  in  such  differ- 
ent aspects,  that  they  admit  of  so  many  differing 
modes  of  treatment,  that  they  engage  so  many  dif- 
ferent qualities  of  mind,  why  should  any  one  view 
or  class  of  views  be  dogmatically  taught  ?  Here,  if 
anywhere,  speculation  should  be  absolutely  free,  and 
minds  of  all  structures,  methods  of  investigation  in 
every  variety,  should  be  invited  to  make  their  con- 
tribution to  the  general  result  of  knowledge.  The 
scientific  method,  the  method  of  history,  the  method 
of  prophecy,  are  all  in  place.  When  all  methods 
have  performed  their  utmost  the  result  will  be  only 
conjecture.  But  when  none  of  them  have  had  a 
chance,  but  all  have  been  put  under  subjection  to 
an  arbitrary  decree,  not  even  conjecture  can  be 
reached. 


21 

Besides,  the  education  of  the  mind  goes  for  some- 
thing :  and  this  the  profession  of  absolute  knowledge 
renders  impossible.  K  all  the  high  questions  are 
answered  before  they  are  asked,  and  answered  by  a 
tribunal  which  admits  no  criticism  and  listens  to 
no  appeal,  the  intellect,  being  pronounced  a  vagrant 
and  warned  off  the  field,  will  become  idle  and  vaga- 
bond, will  lie  about  under  fences,  or  stand  among 
loungers,  and  lose  its  quality  of  energy  altogether. 
A  complete  apathy  ending  in  inability  will  befall  the 
mind.  There  will  be  no  active  effort  to  understand 
what  is  communicated,  no  positive  grasp  of  any 
truth.  The  intellectual  power  will  be  stricken  with 
paralysis,  and  the  whole  rational  being  will  be  out- 
cast. Among  the  masses  of  people  in  countries 
where  the  religion  of  Rome  has  prevailed  this  has 
occurred.  How  different  from  Protestant  lands  ! 
Where,  through  the  small  aperture  allowed  by  tradi- 
tion and  the  Bible,  the  mind  of  man,  pushed  on  to  the 
wide  realms  of  thought  and  revelled  in  the  treatment 
of  the  greatest  themes,  and  became  strong  by  grap- 
pling with  problems  that  called  out  the  extremest 
endeavor  of  every  faculty.  Under  Protestantism, 
speculation  on  Divine  things  has  trained  the  intel- 
lectual powers  of  ordinary  men  and  women,  for  their 
exercise  on  matters  of  daily  concern.  The  freedom 
of  thought  that  resolved  dogmas  into  opinions,  and 


i2 

opinions  into  conjectures,  and  destroyed  some  of  the 
cardinal  beliefs  of  the  Church,  more  than  made 
amends  by  the  breadth  of  tone  and  firmness  of  fibre 
it  gave  the  mind  from  which  all  beliefs  spring. 

If  authority  have  any  realm  of  its  own,  it  must 
be  the  realm  of  conduct ;  for  conduct,  being  based 
on  experience,  may  be  brought  down  to  line  and 
measure.  Even  here  it  must  be  watched  with 
misgivings  at  every  step.  But  in  the  realm  of 
thought,  and  of  transcendental  thought  especially, 
it  is  wholly  out  of  place.  There  the  only  final 
authority  is  reason. 

V.  One  point  remains  to  be  considered,  when  we 
are  considering  the  claims  of  the  religion  of  Rome  on 
our  regard.  That  religion  is  commended  as  furnishing 
the  only  stable  compactly  built  bulwark  against  the 
wave  of  secularism,  or,  in  other  words,  of  worldliness, 
or  materialism,  as  it  is  called,  that  is  sweeping  with 
devastating  flood  over  modern  society.  The  concern 
for  this  world,  and  for  the  interests  of  this  world,  is, 
we  are  told,  becoming  exorbitant.  The  absorption 
in  business,  the  passion  for  wealth,  the  lust  for  place 
distinction  and  power,  the  ambition  for  display,  are 
increasing  everywhere  in  extent  and  degree;  the 
senses  are  claiming  more  than  their  share  of  honor, 
and  there  is  apparently  nothing  to  counteract  the 
influence.     The  religion  of  Protestantism  is  split  up 


2-6 

into  numerous  parties,  each  of  wliicli  is  too  uiucli  (oc- 
cupied with  its  own  sectarian  affairs  to  work  foi'  the 
spiritual  education  of  society.  Singly  tliey  are  ])o\\  ei- 
less ;  and  united  they  are  not.  and  cannot  l)e.  'J'lie 
only  thing"  of  l)ulk  that  presents  a  compact  mass  of 
moral  power  to  the  incoming  Hood  of  worhlliness  is 
this  ancient  church  ;  of  recognized  position  among 
the  great  historic  powers  of  the  modern  world  ;  of 
high  repute  among  dominions  and  })rincipaliiies  :  rich 
with  the  tributes  of  Ijelievers  in  all  lands,  opulent  in 
learning  of  all  tongues,  perl'ectly  eipiipped  and  or- 
ganized for  its  peculiar  work,  Avith  all  the  arts 
engaged  in  itssei'vice,  with  institutions  of  every  kind 
ready  made  and  admirably  administered,  master  of 
reverence  and  awe,  setting  forth  under  every  form, 
in  teaching,  symbol,  rite,  sacrament,  perpetual  cere- 
mony and  association,  the  realities  of  the  eternal 
world.  Unassailable,  becatise  so  immense:  strength- 
ened by  the  conflicts  of  centttries  against  the  attacks 
of  foes  without,  and  kept  by  its  own  impressive  uiiity 
from  danger  of  insurrection  from  A\'it]iin.  thismiglity 
church,  simply  by  maintaining  its  position,  demon- 
strates the  existence  and  the  living  presence  of  powers 
invisible  and  eternal ;  is  herself  a  symbol  of  the  eter- 
nity she  points  to  behind  her. 

It  is  an  impressive  and   touching  imagination.      I 
will  not  question   the  trutli  of  it,  hy  asking  whether 


24 

the  church  has  performed  this  service  in  the  past,  or 
is  performing  it  to-day.  Another  question  arises, 
this:  Whether  precisely  that  is  the  service  that 
modern  times  and  men  demand.  Is  it  especially  de- 
sirable now  that,  outside  of  and  apart  from  the 
world  of  affairs  and  secular  interests,  there  should 
exist  such  an  enormous  institution,  holding  such 
boundless  dominion,  wielding  such  tremendous  in- 
fluence, gathering  up  in  itself,  and  monopolizing,  as 
it  were,  the  elements  and  forces  of  the  spiritual  world? 
May  it  not  be  fairly  asked  if  secular  things  and  spir- 
itual have  not^  been  separated  too  widely  and  too 
long ;  if  the  separation  has  not  been  injurious  to  both, 
and  is  not  likely  to  be  more  mischievous  still  as 
society  grows  older ;  if  the  time  has  not  arrived  when 
efforts  should  be  directed  to  the  task  of  releasing  spir- 
itual power  from  the  keeping  of  a  great  institution, 
and  incorporating  it  in  the  constitution  of  society  as 
it  is ;  if  the  processes  of  secularizing  religion  and  of 
spiritualizing  life  should  not  go  forward  together, 
until  the  waters  of  both  seas  reach  a  level.  The 
divorce  between  the  church  and  the  world  has 
lasted  long,  and  the  change  we  should  welcome 
and  congratulate  ourselves  on,  is  that  which 
substitutes  natural  laws  and  sanctions  natural 
bonds  and  affiliations,  for  the  artificial  methods 
that     have     been    made    to     do     service     in     the 


25 

olden  times.  Not  to  bring  to  bear  upon  life  from 
the  outside  a  power  to  remold  and  regenerate — ^but 
to  reveal  a  power  within  life  itself,  to  build  up  and 
renew;  to  disclose  the  vital  laws  of  life,  personal 
and  social,  and  make  evident  its  power  to  determine 
its  own  condition  and  attain  its  own  ends,  in  a  word 
to  divulge  the  essential  value  of  earthly  affairs  and 
conditions  so  that  men  and  women  will  see  as  they 
go  along,  by  whom  their  paths  were  laid  out  and 
whither  they  tend.  To  transfer  sanctity  from  the 
church  to  "  the  world,"  to  recognize  the  sacredness 
of  all  worthy  performance,  whether  it  be  ministering 
or  teaching,  or  ruling,  building,  painting,  editing, 
Writing,  buying,  selling,  investing,  collecting,  pre- 
siding over  a  household  or  working  at  a  trade,  and 
to  weave  principle  into  the  texture  of  practice,  such 
is  the  work  before  this  and  the  coming  generations. 
The  spectacle  of  people  living  intelligently  and 
therefore  worthily,  finding  divine  principles  in  their 
path  and  angels  of  terror  and  of  truth  by  their  side, 
is  more  admirable  than  the  spectacle  of  crowds  flock- 
ing to  a  cathedral  to  hear  lessons  from  a  priest,  or 
meekly  receiving  impressions  of  awe  from  official 
hands.  That  a  long  time  must  elapse  before  such  a 
spectacle  will  be  seen,  that  the  approach  of  such  a 
time  must  be  not  only  slow  but  painfully  difficult  is 
no   reason   for   our  not  desiring   it,  is   the  best  of 


26 

reasons  why  we  should  encourage  and  work  for  its 
coming.  In  this  aspect  alone  the  increasing  spread 
of  the  catholic  religion,  the  increasing  spread  of  any- 
instituted  religion  is  a  thing  to  be  rather  deplored  than 
welcomed ;  and  the  more  attractive  the  form  of  the 
religion  is,  the  more  is  it  to  be  deplored,  for  all  such 
increase  but  postpones  the  time  when  life  itself  shall 
become  religious  by  conforming  to  the  laws  of  its 
own  structure. 

Thus  I  have  tried  to  indicate  the  objectionable 
features  in  that  ancient  religion  which  has  lately 
been  claiming  so  much  of  our  attention.  The  points 
have  been  barely  touched  on ;  each  of  them  might 
be  expanded  by  argument  and  illustration  to  the 
dimensions  of  a  treatise.  I  have  wished  to  bring 
them  together  in  a  group,  that  a  single  glance  might 
reveal  our  whole  position.  Take  the  religion  at  its 
best,  and  practically  no  religion  stands  at  its  best, — 
take  the  religion  at  its  best,  and  it  is  out  of  place  in 
modern  society.  Its  boasted  advantages  are  really 
against  it ;  its  symbolism  is  misleading ;  its  beauty 
is  illusory ;  its  sentiment  is  artificial ;  its  authority 
is  oppressive ;  its  pretensions  to  spiritual  wealth  are 
earned  at  the  expense  of  humanity.  We  shall  not 
clearly  perceive  all  this  till  we  come  to  ourselves, 
and  by  experiment  learn  how  much  a  working  con- 
science  is  better   than  a   confessional,   how   much 


27 

active  kindness  is  better  than  participation  at  the 
mass,  how  much  a  daily  education  in  charity  is 
better  than  the  representation  of  a  dying  Christ  and 
an  atonement  by  foreign  blood. 

The  attitnde  of  the  liberal  towards  the  old 
world  religions  should  be  understood.  It  is  an 
attitude  of  respect  and  appreciation,  very  different 
from  the  suspicion  and  antipathy  of  the  last  gener- 
ation. We  have  learned  to  do  every  possible  justice 
to  all  forms  of  faith ;  to  study  them  from  the  inside 
through  the  minds  of  their  devotees,  to  take  them 
at  their  best,  to  give  them  fullest  credit  for  the  good 
they  do  or  have  done.  But  we  have  learned  too 
that  each  is  good  in  its  own  time  and  place  alone, 
that  the  best  religion  for  Southern  Europe  may  be 
the  worst  for  Northerners,  that  a  perfect  faith  for  the 
middle  age  may  be  a  most  defective  faith  for  to-day. 
We  have  learned  to  dread  what  once  was  worthy  to 
be  loved.  We  have  come  to  believe  that  the  mind 
is  more  than  all  the  beliefs  it  has  generated,  that  the 
heart  is  more  than  all  the  altars  it  has  consecrated, 
that  conscience  is  more  than  all  the  royalties  it  has 
enthroned,  that  the  soul  can  build  more  stately 
temples  than  any  it  has  reared  even  in  the  stateliest 
past. 


THE  GREAT  HOPE, 


It  was  by  no  accident  or  ai-rangement  that  the 
festival  of  Easter  was  appointed  at  the  season  of  tlie 
vernal  equinox.  It  is  the  successor  of  an  ancient 
pagan  festival  that  commemorated  the  resurrection 
of  nature  from  the  grave  of  winter ;  a  festival  of 
joy  in  the  dawning  of  a  new  hope  for  man.  Spring  is 
the  season  of  Hope.  The  promise  comes  with 
summer ;  the  fulfilment  in  autumn.  The-  spring  be- 
stows nothing,  pledges  nothing ;  it  merely  awakens 
longing  and  anticipation.  The  early  summer  may 
arrive,  slowly,  with  rain  and  cold ;  the  late  summer 
may  bring  the  drought  that  scorches,  or  the  flood 
that  drowns  and  rots.  The  farmer  may  have  to 
contend  against  blight,  mildew,  the  worm,  the  tem- 
pest, untimely  frost ;  the  peach  crop,  the  grape  crop, 
the  wheat  crop  may  fail.  Not  until  the  year  closes,  is 
it  ever  known  what  the  year  was  destined  to  pro- 
duce. The  prophecies  of  feeling  and  of  science  are 
alike  vain.  Yet  in  the  face  of  all  these  uncertainties 
the  hopefulness  of  the  spring  is  fresh  and  buoyant. 


"We  welcome  the  brightening  skies,  the  softening  air, 
the  bursting  trees^  the  loosening  ground,  as  if  each 
time  the  year  was  renewed  they  guaranteed  joy  and 
increase.     The  spring  never  fails  to  bring  Hope. 

The  Easter  festival  is  the  festival  of  Hope.  The 
resurrection  it  celebrates  is  a  resurrection  anticipated, 
not  achieved.  Foregleams  of  it  are  all  that  the 
early  believers  were  privileged  to  entertain.  Even 
Paul,  the  great  preacher  of  the  resurrection,  seems 
to  have  cherished  a  hope  of  it  rather  than  what  we 
should  dare  to  call  an  assurance.  Though  he  speaks 
so  confidently  of  the  risen  Christ,  dwells  so  particularly 
on  the  fact  of  His  having  appeared  to  His  disciples, 
dwells  so  minutely  on  the  vision  cf  Him  at  his  own 
conversion,  alleges  such  repeated  communications 
from  Him,  and,  on  the  strength  of  His  resurrection, 
proclaims  so  earnestly  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrec- 
tion to  life  of  believers  in  Him,  still  he  uses  the 
word  "  hope,"  in  connection  with  the  idea  oftener 
than  the  word  "  knowledge."  "  Tribulation  worketh 
patience,  patience  experience,  and  experience  Hope." 
"  We  are  saved  by  hope ;  but  hope  that  is  seen  is 
not  hope ;  for  what  a  man  seeth  why  doth  he  con- 
tinue to  hope  for  ? "  '^  That  ye  through  patience 
might  have  hope."  "  That  ye  may  abound  in  hope." 
"  That  ye  may  be  partakers  of  his  hope."  "  Seeing 
we  have  such  hope  we  use  great  plainness  of  speech." 


"  We,  through  the  Spirit,  wait  for  the  hope  of 
righteousness  tlirough  faith."  "  The  patience  of 
hope  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  "  Our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  God,  our  Father  who  hath  loved  us  and 
given  us  everlasting  consolation  and  good  hope." 
Other  Apostles  speak  in  a  similar  strain.  Peter 
says :  "  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  hath  begotten  us  unto  a  lively 
hope  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the 
dead." 

The  early  believers,  however  certain  of  the 
Christ's  resurrection,  could  not  feel  quite  certain  of 
their  own.  That  depended  on  the  closeness  of  their 
interior  sympathy  with  their  Lord,  the  sincerity  of 
their  belief,  the  wholeness  of  their  consecration ; 
and  of  these  they  could  never  be  quite  confident. 
Their  minds  were  often  disturbed  by  misgivings 
which  the  teachers  tried,  and  not  always  success- 
fully, to  remove.  Shadows  of  uncertainty  occasion- 
ally clouded  the  hearts  of  the  teachers  themselves. 
The  Lord  "delayed  His  coming,"  and  that  fact 
struck  a  chill  to  sanguine  souls. 

And  the  particular  hope  of  the  early  believers 
proved  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  hope.  The  Lord 
did  not  come.  The  disciples  fell  asleep,  and  have 
had  unbroken  slumber  since.  The  trumpet  did  not 
sound ;  the  dead  were  not  raised  in  glory ;  the  living 


were  not  changed.  From  that  day  to  this  no  in- 
stance has  been  recorded  of  the  visible  translation  of 
Saint  or  Prophet  from  earth  to  heaven ;  no  grave 
has  been  emptied  at  the  call  of  angels ;  no  believer 
has  passed  to  another  sphere  by  any  portal  but  the 
portal  of  death.  It  is  touching  to  think  of  a  disap- 
pointment so  cruel.  The  trust  had  been  so  implicit, 
the  reliance  so  constant,  the  devotion  so  profound. 
Was  it  all  for  nought,  the  toil,  the  agony,  the  martyr- 
dom? Nay,  these  were  splendid  in  themselves, 
and  but  for  the  hope  they  would  not  have  existed. 
The  hope,  while  it  lasted,  and  it  lasted  till  the  end, 
invigorated,  consoled,  gladdened,  saved. 

By  the  successors  of  the  apostles  the  hope  was 
entertained  substantially  as  it  had  been,  but  was  de- 
ferred to  a  later  period.  Since  the  first  century. 
Christian  believers,  Catholic  and  Protestant,  have 
persisted  in  the  faith  that  their  Lord  had  risen,  that 
He  would  appear  in  glory,  that  they  should  rise  in 
the  body  to  meet  Him,  and  should  share  His  blessed- 
ness. But  they  anticipated  no  such  events  on  the 
earth.  Not  till  the  earth  had  passed  away,  and  the 
terrestrial  order  had  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
heavens  had  shrivelled  like  a  scroll,  would  the 
trumpet  sound  and  the  dead  be  summoned  from  the 
ends  of  the  world.  Of  so  much  they  were  confident, 
but  whether  the  immortal  life  was  to  be  theirs  was 


continually  in  doubt.  To  the  last  moment  of  life 
there  was  anxiety  on  this  point,  and  at  the  last 
moment  the  anxiety  often  deepened  into  anguish. 
Dared  the  individual  believer  entertain  the  hope  ? 
Was  his  faith  of  the  true  quality  ?  Had  he  shared 
the  experience  ?  Was  he  wholly  Christ's  ?  Did  his 
heart  pronounce  him  acceptable?  The  religious 
books,  of  Protestants  especially,  reveal  a  painful 
absence  of  assurance  on  these  momentous  points. 

For  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Christian 
hope  has  from  the  beginning  been  limited  to  Chris- 
tian believers.  The  religion  did  not  affirm  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul.  The  festival  of  Easter  does 
not  celebrate  the  doctrine  of  the  natural  immortality 
of  man.  It  celebrates  the  resurrection  of  Christ  and 
the  promise  of  resurrection  to  all  who  belong  to 
Christ.  "As  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ 
shall  all  be  made  alive ;  but  every  one  in  his  own 
order ;  Christ  the  first  fruits,  afterward  they  that  are 
Chrisfg  at  His  coming."  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life;  He  that  helieveth  in  me  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live ;  and  whoso  liveth  and  he- 
lieveth in  me  shall  never  die."  '"''If  ye  believe  not  that 
lam  Se  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins."  "  Thou  hast  given 
Him  power  over  all  flesh,  that  he  should  give 
eternal  life  to  as  many  as  thou  hast  given  him^ 
"Whoso  eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh  my  blood, 


hath  eternal  life  ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last 
day."  "  Every  one  that  seeth  the  Son  and  helieveth 
on  Him  hath  everlasting  life ;  and  I  will  raise  him 
up  at  the  last  day."  Language  cannot  be  plainer 
than  this.  And  this  is  the  language  that  is  still 
quoted  as  asserting  the  doctrine  of  immortality. 
The  doctrine  it  conveys  is  the  personal  resurrection 
of  believers.  Is  it  said  that  the  promise  of  blessed- 
ness is  for  believers  only ;  that  the  resurrection  is 
for  all,  believers  and  unbelievers,  but  that  the  be- 
liever only  is  promised  the  resurrection  to  life  ?  That 
all  continue  to  live,  after  a  melancholy  fashion,  in 
the  shadowy  under-world  of  ghosts,  in  the  misery  of 
exile  from  the  Divine  presence,  or  in  the  agonies  of 
the  damned ;  that  all  are  "  raised  "  though  all  save 
believers  are  cast  down  again  ;  and  therefore  Christ- 
ianity does  admit  the  natural  immortality  of  men  ? 
True,  but  then  the  resurrection  to  life  is  the  only 
resurrection  promised  or  hoped  for;  immortality 
means  felicity  in  the  hereafter,  or  it  means  nothing. 
Condemnation,  destruction,  torment,  annihilation, 
are  not  states  of  joyous  anticipation.  A  belief  in 
immortality  that  is  not  happy  would  not  be 
cherished.  The  modern  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  corresponds  to  the  older  belief  in  the 
resurrection  to  life. 

The  Christian  faith  implies  that  the  resurrection 


was  a  special  gift  conferred  by  tlie  Divine  grace  on 
believers  ;  not  a  human  prerogative,  not  a  human 
achievement,  but  a  boon  made  possible  through  com- 
munion with  the  source  of  eternal  life  ;  not  a 
natural,  but  a  supernatural  condition,  therefore, 
attained  in  the  way  of  miracle.  This  was  broadly 
stated  by  Henry  Dodwell,  once  a  professor  at 
Oxford,  who  maintained  from  Scripture  and  the 
early  Fathers  that  the  soul  is  by  nature  mortal, 
but  is  made  immortal  by  the  will  of  God,  for  pur- 
poses of  doom  or  recompense  ;  that  the  capacity  for 
imnfortality  is  communicated  at  baptism  by  virtue 
of  the  Divine  Spirit  there  received.  The  doctrine 
was  received  with  a  shock  of  surprise,  even  by 
people  who  had  always  entertained  it,  but  had 
never  fairly  faced  its  consequences.  By  dissenters 
it  was  fiercely  assailed.  At  about  the  same  time, 
Dr.  Samuel  Clarke,  in  lectures  delivered  at  Oxford, 
attempted  a  demonstration  of  the  natural  immor- 
tality. 

Abandoning  Scripture  and  tradition  he  argued  the 
question  metaphysically,  and  offered  what  he  called 
"  a  rigorous  philosophical  demonstration  of  the  im- 
materiality and  consequently  the  immortality  of  the 
soul."  This  was  early  in  the  last  century.  The 
book  of  Clarke  made  a  great  sensation  and  became 
the  main  pillar  of  the  new    doctrine  of  the  soul's 


10 

natural  immortality,  a  doctrine  in  fact  not  new  at 
all,  but  as  old  as  Plato,  and  not  "  Christian  "  at  all, 
but  Gentile,  the  fruit  of  unaided  reason. 

By  this  new  doctrine  the  hope  of  immortality 
was  extended  to  the  whole  human  race.  But  it  was 
still  no  more  than  a  hope,  and  as  a  hope  was  made 
thin  and  shadowy.  In  proportion  as  it  was  diffused 
it  was  rendered  insubstantial.  All  men  have  souls ; 
all  souls  are  immaterial ;  whatever  is  immaterial  is 
immortal;  therefore  all  men  are  immortal.  The 
argument  is  not  massive.  The  immortality  that  is 
suggested  by  immateriality  is  not  suggestive  of  rich- 
ness or  fulness.  It  looks  like  a  dusty  and  pulverized 
condition,  a  continuance  of  infinitesimal  particles,  the 
perpetuation  of  motes  in  the  air,  of  sand  in  a  desert, 
varied  perhaps  by  sirocco.  Does  immateriality  im- 
part intellectual  and  nioral  qualities  that  contain  in 
themselves  a  pledge  or  promise  of  future  felicity? 
That  question  arises.  "  The  soul  is  immaterial ;"  but 
how  much  is  included  in  the  term  "  soul  ?"  Is  affec- 
tion included,  so  that  the  statement  means  that 
heart's  love  will  survive  the  shock  of  death?  Is  con- 
science included,  so  that  the  statement  means  that 
integrity  and  honor  will  last  through  the  grave  ?  Is 
intellect  included,  so  that  the  statement  affirms  the 
persistence  of  mind,  with  its  native  talent  and 
acquired  accomplishment,  its  hunger  for  knowledge. 


11 

its  love  of  truth,  its  taste  and  perceptions  ?  That  the 
soul  cannot  be  destroyed  is  not  much.  A  grain  of 
sand  cannot  be  destroyed.  Can  the  soul,  by  its 
natural  force,  live,  enjoy,  expand?  Of  this  there 
can  be  no  assurance  on  general  principles.  Great 
souls  may  have  great  hopes ;  but  what  kind  of  hopes 
can  small  souls  entertain  ?  What  kind  of  hopes 
can  they  entertain  who  never  knew  or  made  known 
that  they  had  souls,  but  stupidly  take  this  for  granted 
on  the  ground,  that  they  are  in  form  human  beings  ? 
The  records  of  opinion  show  that  while  Christians 
have  held  to  their  special  hope  of  resurrection 
through  Christ,  unterrified  by  science,  undaunted  by 
philosophy,  the  believers  in  the  soul's  natural  im- 
mortality have  been  conscious  that  their  hope  was 
becoming  fainter  and  was  gradually  slipping  away. 
The  disbelief  in  immortality  has  become  common  in 
all  the  philosophical  schools.  It  has  ceased  with 
multitudes  to  be  so  much  as  an  opinion.  The 
grounds  of  even  a  promising  anticipation  are  re- 
moved. Materialism  has  got  the  better  of  imma- 
terialism,  and  soul  with  body  resolves  itself  into 
dust. 

And  now  Spiritualism  comes  in,  maintaining  the 
natural  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  confronting  the 
philosophical  and  scientific  misgivings,  with  evidence 
addressed  to  the  senses.     Spiritualism  claims   that 


12 

the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  demonstrated  by  such 
palpable  proof  as  even  the  man  of  science  must  re- 
spect.   Immortality,  it  declares,  is  no  longer  a  hope, 
spectral  or  living,  but  an  assurance,  which  everybody 
may  have  who  will.     But  how  far  does  the  assur- 
ance go  ?     Does  it  go  further  than  the  bare  fact  that 
the  dead  live  again,  and  not  as  shadows  but  as  per- 
sons, with  all  the  elements  of  their  personality  about 
them,  with   all   of  mind  they  had   on    earth,  with 
memory,  affection,  will,  sympathy,  capacity  of  enjoy- 
ment and  improvement, — in  short,  with  their  whole 
human   nature?     Does  assurance  go  beyond  that? 
Does    Spiritualism    give    assurance    that    all    will 
grow  in  wisdom  and  goodness;    that   all  will  find 
themselves  better  off,  will  come  to  their  senses,  will 
get  rid  of  their  imperfections,  will  be  purged  of  their 
guilt,  will  arrive  at  happiness  at  last?     Spiritualism 
teaches   all  this;  but  does  it   teach  it   as   positive 
knowledge  or  only  as  reasonable  hope  ?    And  if  only 
as  reasonable  hope,  then  is  not  the  very  pith  of  the 
doctrine   of  immortality  left  still  to  sunny  conjec- 
ture ?     To  know  that  we  are  really  to  live  again  is 
not  much.     Some  of  us  are  more  concerned  to  know 
how  we  are  to  live,  in  what  condition,  with  what 
prospect  ?     Mere  conscious  being  is  not  attractive  to 
everybody.     Many  tell  us  that  they  should  not  re- 
gret the  loss  of  that.     They  hope,  when  they  hope 


13 

at  all,  for  something  more,  and  something  different, 
and  of  this  Spiritualism  gives  them  what  it  considers 
a  reasonable  hope  based  on  general  considerations 
which  it  calls  a  spiritualistic  philosophy,  which  may 
be  sound  or  may  not  be.  Thus  Spiritualism  ends  in 
hope,  like  all  the  rest :  a  hope  wide,  encouraging, 
and  sweet  to  men,  still  a  hoj^e  and  nothing  more. 

Nothing  more  !  But  is  not  this  enough?  Is  not 
hope  as  good  as  anything,  as  good  as  assurance  ?  Is 
it  not  on  some  accounts  better?  Paul  makes  hope 
the  last  beautiful  result  when  patience  experience 
and  tribulation  have  done  their  work.  It  is  the 
highest  peak  of  the  mountain  tipped  with  glory  from 
the  sunbeam.  There  are  no  more  inspiring  offices 
than  those  which  hope  performs  for  men.  In  many 
things  it  is  vastly  more  helpful  than  certainty.  It 
is  better  for  most  men  that  the  future  should  be 
veiled  in  mist,  that  they  should  not  know  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth,  that  all  should  be  dark  beyond 
the  instant.  Certainty  would  paralj'ze  existence. 
Who  would  provide  for  life  that  he  knew  could  not 
be  continued  ?  Who  would  j)lant  or  sow  in  full 
prospect  of  blight  or  worm,  of  drought  or  mildew  ? 
Who  would  navigate  in  defiance  of  impending  shijv 
wreck?  Who  would  explore  in  view  of  certain 
death  from  wild  beast  or  savage?  Who  would 
strive  if  either  failure  or  success    were    announced 


14 

with  infallible  precision?  The  element  of  uncer- 
tainty, when  uncertainty  is  colored  by  hope,  gives 
life  to  all  enterprise.  We  endeavor  to  make  certain, 
because  we  do  not  know.  The  great  working  power 
of  the  race  is  imagination,  and  what  inspires  the 
imagination  like  hope?  Hope  keeps  the  mind  on 
the  stretch  and  the  heart  busy  at  prophesying.  To 
peer  into  the  future,  to  get  glimpses  of  it,  is  an  ex- 
ercise that  never  wearies,  a  task  that  sharpens  every 
faculty,  trains  thought,  quickens  fancy,  deepens 
trust,  and  matures  judgment.  When  we  fall  from 
hope  to  assurance,  we  fall  from  poetry  to  prose.  We 
lose  the  sense  of  mystery  and  the  education  of  senti- 
ment that  it  brings  with  it,  and  dropping  to  the  level 
of  calculation  work  out  our  sum  of  existence  by 
help  of  an  account  book.  To  investigate  is  the 
noblest  office  of  the  reason,  far  nobler  than  that  of 
faith.  There  are  those  who  make  the  uncertainty 
of  the  future  an  excuse  for  not  thinking  of  it  at  all, 
an  excuse  for  withdrawing  within  the  lines  of  prac- 
tical life  and  letting  to-morrow  bring  what  it  will. 
But  they  are  exceptional  minds.  The  majority  of 
men  will  take  thought  for  the  morrow,  and  the  more 
dimly  veiled  by  doubtfulness  it  is,  the  more  thought 
they  take,  and  by  taking  thought  they  develop  the 
powers  of  the  mind.  In  one  respect  'knowledge  and 
ignorance  have  a  similar  effect  on  the  will.     Both 


15 

arrest  its  movement,  the  former  by  dogma,  the  latter 
by  stupor.  They  that  are  certain  they  know  every- 
thing are  as  unwilling  to  go  further,  as  they  that 
know  not  what  it  is  to  be  certain  of  anything. 

Hope  is  expansive  and  elastic ;  it  is  many  colored 
and  many  voiced.  A  cardinal  objection  to  the  stereo- 
typed representations  of  immortality  is  their  mon- 
otony. All  are  served  alike;  and  where  all  are 
served  alike,  many  are  served  with  what  they  do 
not  want.  No  single  anticipation  meets  every  mood. 
There  is  nothing,  however  attractive,  that  any  one  of 
us  would  do  all  the  time.  The  pleasantest  gardens 
weary ;  the  sweetest  bowers  cloy ;  the  most  exhilarat- 
ing pursuits  are  oppressive ;  the  most  tuneful  harps 
are  discordant ;  the  brightest  crowns  make  the  head 
ache.  Every  doctrine  of  immortality  pinches  some- 
where. If  it  accords  with  the  lower  dispositions  it 
is  disagreable  to  the  higher.  Orthodox  Christianity 
would  seat  us  on  golden  stools,  and  set  us  to  making 
music  without  so  much  as  allowing  us  to  choose  our 
instrument.  Spiritualism  has  too  high  an  apprecia- 
tion of  sununer  and  flowers.  Rationalism  is  so  en- 
amored of  progress  that  it  covers  the  expanse  of  the 
hereafter  with  ladders  and  parallel  bars,  and  promises 
the  children  of  eternity  an  unceasing  round  of  gym- 
nastics. Swedenborg's  visions  of  Heaven  would 
make  some  men  pray  for  annihilation.     Every  posi- 


16 

tive  form  is  open  to  this  criticism  that  it  substitutes 
an  uncomely  fact  for  a  golden  fancy,  which  like  the 
clouds  of  a  sunset  sky  presents  to  the  gazer,  town  or 
castle,  a  string  of  camels,  a  herd  of  sheep,  a  river,  a 
palace,  each  continually  changing  into  something 
else.  The  mystery  of  the  future  is  its  charm.  Its 
castles  are  castles  in  the  air,  which  we  can  build  and 
alter  at  pleasure.  A  doctrine  will  be  challenged 
and  must  be  defended ;  a  belief  must  maintain  itself 
by  arguments  which  provoke  assault  ;  a  theory 
will  be  tested  by  hard  questions  which  from  the 
nature  of  the  case  cannot  be  answered  and  will  be 
confronted  with  dilemmas  from  which  extrication  is 
impossible.  Hope  is  of  all  degrees,  and  the  future 
it  creates  is  of  all  dimensions.  Even  the  hope- 
less, if  there  be  any  such,  who  ask  for  no  future 
and  wish  there  were  none,  are  not  or  need  not  be 
vexed  by  being  told  that  they  must  have  something 
they  do  not  want.  I  desire  that  no  one,  though  he 
be  the  wisest  and  the  saintliest,  may  fashion  the 
hereafter  for  me.  For  no  picture  can  exhibit  all  the 
hues  of  hope.  Give  a  hope  of  immortality,  and  the 
anticipation  of  it  will  be  welcome  to  thousands  whom 
every  description  repels — whether  it  be  of  orthodox 
or  unorthodox  believers.  The  hope  will  be  accepted 
where  the  dogma  would  be  rejected,  because  the 
hope  leaves  full  play  to  the  imagination,  while  the 
dogma  forecloses  imagination  entirely. 


17 

But,  say  some,  the  hope  is  as  hard  to  get  as  the 
belief.  Whence  shall  it  come  to  the  hopeless  ?  Is 
it  then  as  hard  to  obtain  hope  as  to  obtain  belief?  It 
seems  to  me  that  hope  survives  all  belief,  in  hundreds 
of  cases,  and  is  unavoidable  when  belief  may  be  un- 
attainable. Unbelief  is  sometimes  utter.  But  is  hope- 
lessness ever  so  ?  Is  it  probable  that  hope  ever  abso- 
lutely perishes  in  the  human  breast  ?  What  is  signi- 
fied by  the  phrase  "  hoping  against  hope "  but  this 
very  deathlessness  of  hope,  this  quality  that  hope 
has  of  opening  door  after  door,  and  leaping  barrier 
after  barrier,  of  making  bricks  without  straw  and 
even  without  clay,  of  dashing  over  chasms  where 
there  is  nothing  but  a  rainbow  for  a  bridge  ?  It  is 
scarcely  possible  to  think  of  an  utterly  hopeless 
being.  The  very  suicide,  in  his  desperation  has  a 
hope  that  death  will  put  an  end  to  his  despair,  either 
by  introducing  him  to  another  realm  of  being  where 
misery  will  not  reach  him,  or  by  granting  him  the 
peace,  the  profound  peace  of  the  grave.  And  this 
peace  of  the  grave — ^is  it  not  after  all,  faintly  con- 
ceived as  a  half  conscious  state,  a  condition  of  repose 
undisturbed  except  so  far  as  disturbance^  may  be 
necessary  to  reveal  the  depth  of  its  tranquillity, — as 
in  sleep  we  wish  to  wake  now  and  then,  just  enough 
to  be  aware  how  sweet  the  sleep  is?  Sleep  itself 
brings  no  enjoyment,  for  as  far  as  consciousness  is 


18 

concerned  it  is  annihilation.  The  blessedness  is  in 
sinking  to  sleep,  and  being  sure  of  sleep's  refresh- 
ment. The  dreams  that  may  come  in  health  do  not 
"  give  us  peace,"  but  enhance  the  anticipation.  So  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  they  who  voluntarily  sink 
into  the  sleep  of  death  with  the  thought  that  from  it 
there  will  be  no  waking,  do  not  after  all  dimly  hope 
for  the  luxury  of  knowing  that  they  are  annihilated, 
and  can  suffer  from  the  burden  of  existence  no 
longer.  They  would  be  alive  sufficiently  to  enjoy 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  they  are  dead. 
There  are  many,  I  am  aware,  who  say  that  they 
do  not  hope  for  continued  existence  after  death; 
in  whom  neither  love  of  life,  nor  love  of  friends,  nor 
love  of  knowledge,  nor  love  of  happiness,  nor  love  of 
their  souls,  rouses  corresponding  desire ;  but  even 
these  might,  if  the  secret  of  their  hearts  could  be 
known,  be  found  wishing  for  something  too  wild  for 
them  to  expect.  Hope  instead  of  being  dead  in  them 
may  have  retreated  to  its  fountain  because  it  would 
not  waste  itself  on  the  barren  places  that  men 
called  "  paradise."  That  the  hope  of  immortality  is 
dgeper  and  more  universal  than  the  belief  in  it,  ai> 
pears  from  the  efforts  men  make  to  substitute  some 
other  satisfaction  for  the  lost  one  of  faith.  They 
hope  to  leave  some  record  after  them  when  they  have 
gone ;  to  live  in  the  memory  of  friends,  to  be  associ- 


19 

ated  with  dear  places  and  objects,  to  be  thought  of 
tenderly,  indulgently,  gratefully  by  people  wliose 
love  has  been  precious.  The  hope  of  an  immortality 
of  some  sort  seems  never  to  die  ;  it  revives  rather, 
and  increases  as  the  faith  in  conscious  continuance 
in  another  state  of  being  declines. 

In  saying  this,  it  is  not  implied  that  hoi:>e  is  an  in- 
born principle,  an  implanted  instinct  which,  with  or 
without  justification,  prophesies  good  in  some  indefi- 
nite hereafter.  That  jjosition  is  often  taken,  but 
rashly,  unadvisedly,  and  in  the  mood  of  feeling 
rather  than  of  thought.  Hope  must  have  some  ground 
to  stand  on,  a  basis  of  cloud,  if  nothing  more  solid, 
a  twig,  if  nothing  more  steadfast.  And  such  ground 
there  is,  firm  enough  for  a  magnificent  hope,  if  for 
nothing  more. 

I.  In  the  first  place  there  is  the  imperative 
demand  for  justice,  a  demand,  passionate,  wild, 
unreasonable,  indefinite  often,  perhaps  usually,  still 
at  bottom  earnest,  and  to  all  appearance  justified.  So 
far  as  we  can  discern  there  is  injustice  in  the  present 
arrangements  of  the  world.  When  every  allowance 
has  been  made  for  mistake  and  misapprehension  ; 
when  a  keen  revision  has  thrown  out  whole  classes 
of  evidence ;  when  compensations  of  all  kinds,  re- 
v/ards  and  retributions  of  every  sort  and  degree  have 
been  reckoned  ;  when  the  moral  microscope  has  been 


20  . 

employed  to  read  between  the  lines  of  history,  and 
what  seemed  gigantic  iniquities  have  been  resolved 
into  harmless  and  even  beneficent  incidents  ; 
when  even  faith  in  the  divine  rule  of  the  world 
has  been  called  in  to  fill  out  the  explanations  with 
conjectured  possibilities,  there  remain  cases  which 
cannot  thus  be  disposed  of.  Just  persons,  men  and 
women,  have  suffered,  in  every  conceivable  manner, 
in  mind,  body,  estate,  reputation,  character,  through 
no  wilful  or  conscious  fault  of  omission  or  commis- 
sion, have  suffered  without  the  smallest  visible  com- 
pensation, their  wrong  and  misery  being  an  unac- 
countable thing  to  themselves  and  to  others,  a 
mystery  before  which  we  stand  dumb.  On  the 
other  hand,  unjust  people  have  committed  wrongs, 
in  fraud,  cruelty,  lust,  rapine,  tyranny,  baseness,  for 
which  they  have  never  been  called  to  account  in 
their  life  time,  for  which  they  have  offered  no  atone- 
ment, made  no  apology,  suffered  no  compunction, 
been  touched  with  no  remorse  ;  in  the  perpetration 
of  which  they  have  gratified  themselves,  in  the 
fruits  of  which  they  have  enjoyed  themselves,  on 
the  memory  of  which  they  have  felicitated  them- 
selves. Examples  of  this  kind  are  supposed  to 
be  numerous ;  granting  that  they  are  few,  allowing 
that  only  two  or  three  can  be  found  that  resist  all 
attempts   at   an   interpretation    that   is    in    accord 


21 

with  the  divine  equity — still  these  require  justi- 
fication to  the  heart ;  and  so  long  as  these  are 
not  clearly  set  apart  as  exceptions  to  the  general 
order  of  providence,  the  impression  of  a  pervading 
injustice  will  last,  and  the  mind  wQl,  in  spite  of  re- 
monstrance from  cool  reason,  turn  its  gaze  towards 
another  state  of  being  where  the  inequality  may  be 
explained  or  removed.  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that 
at  some  future  time,  when  the  knowledge  of  the 
constitution  of  the  moral  universe  shall  be  more 
complete  than  it  is,  all  cases  of  seeming  iniquity 
will  be  explained  in  full  consistency  with  absolute 
wisdom  and  goodness ;  but  till  that  time  arrives,  so 
long  as  iniquity,  after  we  have  done  onr  best,  stands 
out  blank  and  bold  as  iniquity,  unredeemed  or  un- 
softened,  the  feeling  that  there  must  be  a  balancing 
of  accounts  in  a  hereafter,  will  be  invincible. 

That  the  argument  may  be  pushed  too  far  is 
conceded ;  that  it  is  usually  pushed  too  far  is  allowed ; 
that  it  cannot  fairly  be  made  to  sustain  a  structure 
of  belief  in  another  stage  of  being,  I  for  one,  frankly 
admit.  But  it  is  strong  enough  to  support  a  hope. 
The  thoughtful  man  may  not  be  prepared  to  say  that 
"  either  man  is  immortal  or  God  is  not  just ;  "  but 
the  good  man  may  breathe  a  hope  that  he  may  be 
immortal  in  order  that  he  may  see  that  God  i»  just. 
Whether  man  be  mortal  or  immortal,  the  justice  of 


22 

God  is  not  to  be  called  in  question.  The  hope  is  that 
we  may  be  permitted  to  behold  it. 

2.  Hope  finds  another  justification  in  the  incom- 
pleteness of  life.  Of  all  who  are  born  the  number  is 
comparatively  small  who  have  opportunity  to  know 
or  prove  what  they  are  or  might  become.  In  our 
cemeteries  how  many  broken  columns  in  memory  of 
people  whose  lives  have  been  cut  short  on  the  thresh- 
hold  of  promise  !  As  we  consult  observation  and 
recall  memories,  we  are  astonished  at  the  number  of 
blighted  existences  and  baffled  careers.  Years  of 
toil  and  privation  and  the  possession  of  the  promised 
land  denied,  though  the  eye  be  not  dimmed  or  the 
natural  force  abated  ;  the  organization  of  the  brain 
giving  out,  at  the  very  moment  the  eager  intellect 
would  make  a  crowning  effort ;  the  dawning  ambition 
clouded  if  not  lost  in  darkness  before  noon ;  the  budd- 
ing promise  of  usefulness  nipped  by  an  untimely  frost 
on  the  edge  of  summer ;  suns  dropping  from  the  firm- 
ament they  seemed  about  to  fill  with  light !  These 
sights  meet  us  unceasingly,  and  whenever  we  see 
them,  the  dream  of  some  future  fulfilment  comes 
unbidden  to  the  heart. 

The  dream  is  very  vivid  indeed  when  those  who  are 
thus  prematurely  blotted  out  are  noble  persons,  who, 
living  for  great  ends,  have  died  without  seeing  them 
fulfilled,  or,  emulous  of  high  attainment  in  goodness, 


23 

have  been  prevented  by  death  from  achieving  the 
character  they  made  the  object  of  their  endeavor — 
life  for  them  ending,  and  all  that  rendered  life  dear 
denied. — The  arrested  development  of  soul  is  one  of 
the  perplexing  phenomena  of  experience.  Perhaps  we 
have  no  right  to  expect  anything  else.  Perhaps  the 
demand  is  extravagant  that  the  individnal  shonld  be 
permitted  to  perfect  himself  in  mind  or  in  character  ; 
it  looks  like  an  expectation  that  the  individual 
members  of  the  race  shall  attain  a  stature  which  the 
whole  race,  in  the  course  of  ages,  alone  can  reach. 
Still  the  hope  that  wisdom  and  goodness  may  be 
justified  in  their  children,  that  summer  and  autumn 
will,  in  due  succession,  crown  every  human  spring- 
time is  so  natural  as  to  be  with  most  people  inevi- 
table. And  that  hope  can  come  to  fruition  only  in 
a  hereafter.  The  summer  means  heaven ;  the 
autumn  means  eternity. 

3.  Then  there  is  the  heart's  hope  that  its  affec- 
tions will  be  allowed  to  unfold  themselves  in  full 
strength  and  beauty,  and  reach  the  complete  satis- 
faction they  long  after.  Love  of  parent,  child,  brother, 
or  sister,  friend,  become  an  organic  part  of  the 
nature,  feels  defrauded  when  the  object  is  taken 
away,  cries  out  for  reunion  and  will  not  be  comfort- 
ed with  anything  less  than  a  hereafter  of  loving 
opportunity.      Yet  more  earnest  and  tremulous  with 


24 

passion,  is  the  cry  for  satisfaction  from  those  whose 
affection  has  never  found  its  object,  or  having  found 
it,  is  unable  to  bring  it  within  reach,  but  is  met  on 
every  hand  by  impediments  that  cannot  be  removed. 
Experiences  of  this  kind  are  common,  more  common 
than  is  generally  believed,  and  they  are  often 
heart>-rending.  Reason  lends  to  such  cries  an 
open  ear.  In  calm  moments  we  refuse  to  admit  the 
plea  that  love,  any  love,  has  by  virtue  of  its  strength 
a  claim  on  full  fruition  of  joy.  They  who  do 
not  feel  the  pangs  of  heart-hunger,  regard  as  mere 
sentimentalism  the  notion  that  lovers  must  find 
lovers  again  and  friends  friends;  that  a  heaven 
must  be  provided  in  the  future  for  those  who  have 
missed  heaven  here,  through  their  own  fault  perhaps ; 
that  eternal  mansions  must  be  prepared  for  homeless 
hearts,  where  the  separated  shall  be  gathered  to- 
gether again  and  the  lost  shall  be  found.  But  when 
the  heart-hunger  comes,  as  it  does  to  almost  every 
body  sooner  or  later,  the  sober  judgment  of  the  in- 
tellect is  repudiated,  hope  reigns  fsupreme,  and  urges 
its  title  to  be  considered  one  of  the  hopes  that  must 
not  be  "  put  to  shame."  No  doubt  the  hope,  in  the 
great  multitude  of  cases,  is  passionate  and  visionary ; 
the  affection  will  cool  in  a  short  time ;  the  desire  will 
slacken  ;  the  hunger  will  subside  without  gratifica- 
tion ;  temporary  consolations  will  meet  the  occasion 


25 

of  sorrow,  and  the  hope  will  fold  its  wings  far  on 
the  hither  side  of  immortality.  But  it  is  not  always 
so  by  any  means.  The  longing  is  often  life  long, 
and  gains  in  depth  as  it  loses  in  passionateness. 
Many  will  never  believe  that 

'Tis  better  to  liave  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all, 

and  will  deem  themselves  wholly  justified  in  feeling 
that  the  awakening  of  love  guaranties  a  full  satis- 
faction of  all  love's  desires.  And  with  these  the 
hope  of  an  immortality  is  inj-ppeasible.  With  them 
hope  is  an  inspired  prophet,  a  divine  oracle  in  the 
heart,  whose  voice  it  is  blasphemy  to  neglect. 

Considerations  like  these  may  not  have  much 
force  as  arguments ;  but  as  persuasions  they  are  not 
without  power.  Practically,  they  have  immense, 
though  imponderable  value.  If  they  do  not  sustain 
conviction,  they  enrich  and  gladden  sentiment,  and 
sentiment,  with  the  multitude  of  mankind,  carries  a 
mightier  and  wider  sway  than  conviction.  It  is  in 
feeling  that  we  live.  The  daily  sunshine  and  atmo- 
sphere of  the  heart  are  a  joy  .and  habitual  inspiration. 
The  beliefs  we  define  and  profess  may  be  the  best  ac- 
count we  can  give  of  our  general  condition  of  mind ; 
but  the  poise  of  feeling  decides  our  place  in.  the  world 
of  imagination  and  faith.  Beliefs  may  be  feet  to  us, 
but  feet  do  not  carry  us  far.     Faith  and  hope   are 


26 

wings,  by  the  aid  of  which  we  scale  the  barriers  of 
space,  and  flit  across  the  barren  reaches  of  time. 
I  The  materials  that  hope  is  made  of  are  more 
precious  than  those  of  which  belief  is  composed. 
Belief  is  built  up  of  arguments,  reports,  traditions, 
imperfect  observations  of  hastily  collected  phenom- 
ena, but  hope  is  the  result  of  loving,  trusting,  serving, 
obeying,  being.  These  qualities  of  the  person  are  the 
most  trustworthy  prophets  of  the  person's  destiny. 
Make  them  rich  and  they  will  not  disappoint  their 
possessor.  Happiness  \^^ill  follow  goodness ;  or  if  not 
happiness,  that  which  is  far  better,  the  trust  that  sur- 
renders happiness  and  accepts  the  order  of  the  divine 
decree. 


CLOGS  A>'D  OPPORTU^FTIES. 

I  announce  my  subject  this  morning  as  Clogs  and 
Opportunities- 
Let  me  endeavor  in  a  few  words  to  make  clear  the 
line  of  my  thought,  and  the  drift  of  my  argument. 
The  two  words  suggest  opposite  ideas ;  the  one,  a 
shut  door,  the  other  an  open  door;  the  one  a  fetter, 
the  other  a  sail ;  the  one  a  hindrance,  the  other  a  help  ; 
the  one  limitation,  the  other  deliverance.  Oppor- 
tunity is  supposed  to  be  deliverance  from  clogs. 
Clogs  are  supposed  to  be  obstacles  in  the  way  of  op- 
portunity. The  lament  is  incessant  that  clogs  are  so 
numerous  and  so  heavy,  that  opportunities  are  so 
few,  and  so  easily  exhausted.  There  is  a  perpetual 
moaning  and  murmurinij  over  the  burdcnsomeness  of 
fetters.  All  the  congratulation  there  is  celebrates 
the  abundance  and  facility  of  opportunities.  Tt  has 
been  for  these  hundreds  of  years  the  habit  of  people. 


and  of  the  best  people, —  the  most  thoughtful  and 
earnest  people, —  to  speak  of  the  world  as  a  scene  of 
sorrow,  weariness  and  tribulation,  of  life  as  a  long 
and  arduous  battle,  of  experience  as  a  series  of  afflic- 
tions and  humiliations.  In  fact,  this  may  be  called 
the  "  Christian  "  way  of  looking  at  the  world,  and 
the  "  Christian  "  way  of  speaking  about  the  world. 
The  reason  of  it  is  that  the  accepted  theory  of  the 
world  for  a  good  deal  more  than  two  thousand  years, 
is  based  on  the  notion  that  there  is  a  bitter  and  dead- 
ly war, — a  war  to  the  death, —  between  Light  and 
Darkness,  between  Good  and  Evil.  Good  being  a 
beneficent  principle,  and  Evil,  a  principle  also,  ma- 
leficent. The  resulting  feeling  was,  therefore,  that 
this  world  is  a  place  of  exile,  a  dungeon,  a  desert; 
that  man  is  shut  up  in  it,  a  spiritual  being,  fully  en- 
dowed with  heavenly  gifts  and  capabilities  ;  that  the 
effort  of  life  is  to  emancipate  himself  from  this  thral- 
dom ;  that  experience  is  the  friction,  the  rub,  the 
tribulation  incident  to  being  in  the  dungeon  at  all,  and 
that  the  only  power  that  can  emancipate  is  the 
power  of  an  angel;  that  deliverance  must  be  sent 
down  to  mankind  from  supernatural  sources,  in  an- 
swer to  prayer  and  supplication,  as  a  reward  of 
humiliation,  and  religious  observance ;  every  effort, 
in  short,  being  made  by  which  the  finite  mind  can 
come  out  of  itself  and  find  refuge   in  the  infinite 


Being.  From  this  theory  all  these  accepted  ideas 
regarding  the  world  and  life  proceed,  and  upon  this 
theory  men  are  induced  to  speak  as  they  do  about 
clogs  and  opportunities. 

Let  us  now  sum  up  the  opposite  view,  and  con- 
sider the  version  which  the  new  religion  gives,  of  the 
world  and  life  and  experience.  Say  that  the  world  is 
not  a  dungeon,  that  life  is  not  a  battle,  that  experience 
is  not  a  series  of  tribulations  and  woes,  that  we  need 
not  go  out  of  ourselves  for  help  to  put  the  world  under 
our  feet,  that  pra3'er,  for  the  interposition  of  the  Su- 
preme Power  to  supplement  the  world  that  he  himself 
has  made  and  endowed,  and  in  which  is  his  continual 
presence,  is  unnecessary  ;  say  that  we  gain  strength 
as  we  go  along,  that  it  is  in  the  effort  to  remove  ob- 
stacles that  we  acquire  power  to  remove  them,  that  ob- 
stacles are  in  this  sense  furtherances,  and  see  atonce 
how  the  entire  view  of  things  changes.  Now  we 
perceive  how  clogs  may  be  opportunities,  perhaps  the 
best  opportunities,  possibly  all  the  opportunities  that 
there  are. 

I  do  not  content  myself  with  saying,  as  men  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  assuming  for  two  or  three  thou- 
sand years,  that  it  is  possible,  with  faith  and  saintli- 
ness  and  holy  will,  for  people  richly  endowed  with 
spiritual  gifts  to  overcome  obstacles,  to  put  tempta- 
tions under  their  feet ;  I  contend  that  as  a  simple 


fact  in  tlie  experience  of  mankind,  clogs  not  only  can 
be  converted  into  opportunities,  but  are  for  all  people 
opportunities.  In  saying  tliis,  I  strike  the  key  note 
of  this  morning's  discussion.  ' 

My  thought  is  simply  this :  that  there  is  no  such 
violent  contrast  between  foes  and  friends,  obstacles 
and  furtherances,  fetters  and  freedom,  as  is  commonly 
supposed ;  that  the  whole  world  is  a  world  of  oppor- 
tunities ;  that  life  is  a  combination  of  advantages ; 
that  experience  is  simply  the  result  of  availing  our- 
selves of  them. 

Let  me  illustrate  this  simple  thought.  First,  we 
will  take  the  clog  of  the  body.  You  know  the  old 
idea,  the  idea  that  is  the  keystone  of  Roman  Catholic 
and  of  Protestant  Evangelical  Christianity,  that  the 
material  body  is  the  seat  of  evil.  Hence  our  horror 
of  matter.  Hence  our  dread  of  worldliness.  Hence 
our  greatest  loathing  of  whatever  is  animal.  Hence  in 
the  religious  world  the  warring  against  natural  desire, 
the  natural  propensities,  material  wishes  and  ho^Des, 
as  if  these  were  essentially  vile  and  bad,  and  as  such 
to  be  repressed  and  extirpated. 

This  old  doctrine,  which  is  held  by  thousands  of 
people,  which  is  held,  in  fact,  though  quite  uncon- 
sciously, by  all  evangelical  Christians  to-day,  is,  as 
a  simple  matter  of  fact,  pretty  much  outgrown. 
There  are,  in  any  Christian  country,   comparatively 


few  people  who  practically  admit  the  theory  that 
their  bodies  are  the  seat  of  evil,  that  matter  is 
inherently  base.  On  the  contrary,  you  will  find 
people  now,  Christian  people  as  well  as  others,  so- 
called  Christian  people  at  all  events,  living  on  the 
supposition  that  it  is  a  good  thing  to  train  the  body, 
to  multiply  pleasant  sensations,  to  gratify  natural 
tastes,  to  expand  natural  powers,  to  augment 
strength,  to  increase  natural  desires  and  gifts.  But 
though  the  theory  is  virtually  discarded,  and  practi- 
cally has  become  obsolete,  though  the  philosophy 
rested  on  is  not  understood,  is  so  completely  forgotten 
in  fact,  that  the  very  people  that  profess  it  cannot  be- 
lieve it  when  stated  bluntly  to  them  ;  still,  there 
exists  a  sentimental  feeling  in  regard  to  the  body  as 
a  clog,  which  it  is  worth  while  to  notice. 

We  hear  people  speaking  thus :  If  it  were  not  for 
these  bodies  of  ours,  we  could  hear  the  songs  of  the 
angels ;  but  the  thickness  of  the  ear  prevents  our  hear- 
ing any  but  the  tones  within  certain  scales,  there  being 
infinite  tones  below,  and  infinite  tones  above,  which 
the  organ  does  not  report  at  all.  We  would  like  to 
see  invisible  forms,  but  the  curtain  of  the  eye  is 
dropped  before  our  vision.  We  should  be  glad  to 
touch  and  embrace  shapes  that  are  finer  than  any 
mortal  bodies,  but  we  are  able  to  grasp  only  sub- 
stantial things.     We  are  eager  to  speed  across  the 


earth  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  miles  an  hour,  and 
at  most  we  can  walk  three  or  four. 

The  body,  that  is  the  clog,  the  fetter,  the  draAv- 
back  on  the  soul.  One  of  these  days,  people  say, 
this  encumbrance  will  be  removed,  for  these  earthly 
elements  will  be  discarded.  Suppose  they  were  ! 
Can  we  conceive  of  a  disembodied  spirit?  Have 
we  an  idea  what  sort  of  a  creature  a  disembodied 
spirit  may  be  ?  A  spirit,  I  mean,  without  organs, 
form,  dimensions,  properties.  We  cannot  imagine 
such  a  thing !  In  trying  to  think  of  the  infinite,  the 
pure  spirit,  you  think  of  him  as  having  a  human 
form.  The  ancients  spoke  of  God  as  being  the  soul 
of  the  world.  If  God  be  the  soul  of  the  world,  then 
the  world  is  the  body  of  God ;  and  so  they  thought. 
The  body  a  clog  !  The  body  is  an  organ,  an  oppor- 
tunity, a  bundle  of  opportunities,  a  system  of  oppor- 
tunities. No  living  man  ever  yet  knew,  or  guessed, 
or  imagined  the  wealth  of  opportunity  that  nature 
shut  up  in  that  frame  of  his. 

Only  now  and  then  some  one  person  gives  us  a 
glimpse  in  some  particular  direction,  of  this  cor- 
poreal capacity.  The  artist  reveals  the  wealth  of 
capability  that  is  stored  away  in  the  human  eye,  as 
he  discloses  shades  of  color  which  mean  nothing  to 
us,  brings  out  effects  of  light  that  never  struck  us, 
traces  lines  and  proportions  of  which  we  have  no 


understancJing  whatever,  actually  detects  secrets  in 
natural  things  that  are  concealed  from  ordinary  men 
ajid  women. 

The  leader  of  orchestra,  who,  while  a  hundred 
instruments  are  playing  in  concert  an  overture  by 
Wagner  or  symphony  of  Beethoven,  can  detect  the 
error  of  a  single  note  in  one  of  the  violins,  reveals 
the  capacity  of  the  human  ear. 

The  fingers  of  the  accomplished  pianist,  that 
seem  alive  each  one  with  a  separate  soul,  so  alive 
that,  without  being  watched  or  apparently  guided, 
streams  of  music  drip  like  rain  from  their  delicate 
tips,  show  something  of  the  power  that  is  latent  in 
the  human  hand.  This  is  what  we  see  now  and 
then. 

Suppose  that  every  human  being  suddenly,  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning,  were  fully  endowed  with  these 
finished  powers,  the  body  actually  being  in  every 
faculty  what  it  occasionally  is  in  a  single  sense ; 
what  could  he  do  with  the  endowment  ?  Nothing. 
Too  much  opportunity  is  as  bad  as  none.  He  would 
be  bafiled,  bewildered  and  crazed  by  excess  of  ad- 
vantage. 

It  is  seldom  that  we  meet  healthy  people  who 
appreciate  their  health.  People  whose  bodies  are 
in  the  very  best  condition  for  effort,  rarely  use  them 
for   the    noblest   effort.     The   history   of  beautiful 


10 

women  is  a  miserable  histor}-  of  vanity  and  frailty, 
of  reckless  and  ruinous  passion.  There  are,  indeed, 
delightful  exceptions,  but  exceptions  they  unhappily 
are.  History  exhibits,  now  and  then,  the  conspicuous 
and  glorious  example  of  a  woman  endowed  with 
beauty  and  grace,  gifted  with  fascination  of  manners 
and  voice,  using  her  exquisite  opportunity  by  sweetly 
pleasing  her  fellow-creatures,  making  them  happy, 
winning  them  to  goodness,  bringing  them  around  her 
as  the  centre  of  an  innocent  and  joyous  society.  But 
for  the  most  part,  the  gift  of  beauty  is  a  fatal  gift, 
because  it  is  too  much  for  its  possessor  to  control ; 
it  is  more  enginery  than  can  be  legitimately  employ- 
ed. The  history  of  strong  men,  too,  in  large  measure, 
is  a  history  of  bruisers,  prize-fighters,  and  bullies.  It 
is  not  invariably  so.  Now  and  then  there  is  a  conspic- 
uous instance  of  a  man  of  magnificent  physique, 
who  uses  it  harmlessly  for  the  welfare  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  under  a  serious  sense  of  accountability  to 
the  giver  of  his  frame  ;  but  this  is  very  rare  indeed. 
For  the  most  part,  health  is  oppressive  to  people, 
and  overcomes  them,  as  joy  does  when  in  excess. 
The  system  must  be  crushed  back,  as  it  were,  on 
itself;  windows  must  be  closed,  doors  must  be  barred, 
in  order  that  a  portion  may  be  improved. 

It  is  said  that  it  is  not  the  body,  but  the  sick,  the 
diseased  body,  that  is  the  clog.     We  should  not  com- 


11 

plain  of  our  bodies,  the  invalids  cry,  if- they  were 
healthy.  We  complain  because  they  are  disordered. 
But  again,  I  say  health  as  a  rule  does  not  minister' to 
virtue.  The  dissipated,  the  abandoned,  the  licen- 
tious, the  inebriate,  are  all  drawn  from  the  class  of  the 
healthy  people.  It  is  the  overplus,  the  exuberance 
of  health,  that  is  dangerous,  being  too  much  for  men 
to  manage ;  consequently,  it  ruins  where  it  should 
rescue.  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  a  certain 
amount  of  infirmity  is  necessary  to  make  people 
appreciate  use  and  enjoy  the  power  they  actually 
possess.  It  is  an  ancient  commonplace,  that  the 
passive  virtues  of  every  quality,  patience,  resigna- 
tion, humility,  sweetness,  care  for  others'  welfare, 
sympathy,  the  graces  of  saintliness  are  educated  to 
a  large  degree  by  sickness.  The  advantages  of  sick- 
ness have  been  the  theme  of  a  great  many  pious  ser- 
mons. We  have  all  heard  the  ministry  of  the  sick- 
room extolled  ;  nay,  it  is  the  confession  of  people  Avho 
have  been  sick  themselves,  that  they  are  introduced 
through  that  avenue  into  compassion  with  the  suffer- 
ing and  sorrow  of  their  fellow-creatures.  All  sick- 
ness does  not  purchase  that  effect,  of  course.  Sick- 
ness often  makes  people  nervous,  querulous,  and 
generally  distempered ;  but  a  large  portion  of  so 
much  passive  virtue  as  there  is  in  the  world,  is  due 
plainly  to  limitation  of  this  kind,  due,  that  is,  to  the 


12 

obstacle,  the  stern  conlinement  which  sickness  im- 
poses. Is  it  not  true  that  a  great  deal  of  the  active 
force  of  women,  their  sensitiveness,  their  power  of 
patience  and  compassion,  has  been  due  as  a  fact,  to 
the  infirmity  of  their  bodies,  to  the  weakness  they 
complain  of,  the  obstacles  and  repressions  they  re- 
sent ? 

A  generation  since,  we  were  all  talking  about 
Laura  Bridgeman,  a  poor  girl  in  Massachusetts,  who 
was  born  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind.  These  avenues  being 
barricaded,  whatever  strength  there  was  in  her, 
rushed  out  of  the  only  avenues  that  were  left,  her 
fingers,  her  skin.  It  was  wonderful  indeed  to  see 
what  this  poor  limited  girl  did  from  the-  pitiful  ne- 
cessity of  the  case.  With  these  so  often  useless  ap- 
pendages of  the  human  body,  she  could  detect  the 
material  of  which  garments  were  made :  she  could  even 
feel  colors.  The  sensibility  of  her  skin  enabled  her 
to  perceive  moral  atmospheres  and  to  penetrate  the 
secrets  of  character  through  the  moral  influences 
they  shed  abroad  upon  the  air.  Laura  Bridgeman  was 
not  a  remarkable  person  ;  had  she  been  endowed  as 
we  are  with  a  full  complement  of  senses,  we  never 
should  have  heard  of  her ;  the  fact  that  she  was  lim- 
ited and  circumscribed  extorted  from  her  the  display 
of  these  wonderful  gifts,  and  made  her  the  attractive 
study  she  was  to  the  scientific  men  of   a  generation. 


Not  long  since  there  died  in  Kngland  an  artist  of 
remarkable  talent.  lie  had  been  a  poor  l)oy.  badly 
bronght  up.  with  seareely  a  trace  of  nurture,  a  lazy, 
idle,  vagabond  youth.  One  day  as  he  was  trying  to 
steal  apples  the  bough  of  the  tree  broke  and  the  lad 
fell  to  the  ground,  receiving  an  injury  to  his  spine 
which  effectually  prevented  performances  of  that 
sort  ever  after.  Shut  up  in  his  room,  confined 
to  his  bed,  no  hmgerin  danger  of  the  jail,  the  state's 
jDrison,  or  the  halter,  '"cabined,  cribbed,  confined." 
whatever  vitality  there  was  in  the  youth  came  out 
in  his  eye  and  touch.  There  he  lay  and  thought,  re- 
viving imjU'essicns,  recalling  facts  of  observation. 
In  his  plundering  and  marauding  expeditions,  he 
had  studied  the  character  and  habits  of  dogs.  With 
singular  and  marvelous  skill  he  begins  now  to  draw^ 
the  familiar  animals,  and  with  a  success  tliat  won  ' 
his  way  to  fame  ;  he  is  a  fortunate  man  avIio  can  be- 
come the  possessor  of  one  of  this  young  man's  draw- 
ings. Infirmity  transformed  the  vagabond  into  an 
artist.  The  clog,  the  fetter,  the  limitation,  perhaps 
saved  him  from  the  gallows. 

You  have  all  heard  of  Blaise  Pascal,  one  of  tlie 
most  extraordinary  men  that  ever  lived  :  a  man  of 
whom  it  has  l)een  said  that  his  intellectual  2)owers 
w^ere  such  as  were  seldom  if  ever  bestowed  on  a  human 
creature.      He    Avas  puny,   sick,  diseased,  from  his 


14 

youth.  Able  to  do  next  to  nothing,  shut  up  in  his 
study,  delicate  and  tremulous,  all  the  blood  that  was 
in  him  ran  to  brain ;  the  feats  that  he  performed, — 
he  died  before  forty — have  astonished  the  world,  and 
astonish  the  world  to-day. 

It  is  a  recorded  biographical  fact,  that  his  greatest 
mathematical  discovery, — and  he  made  more  than 
one, — was  due  to  the  spinal  irritation  that  disease 
produced  which  prevented  sleeping. 

Take  as  another  instance  Robert  Hall,  a  Baptist 
preacher  of  the  last  generation  in  England,  the 
greatest  preacher  of  his  time, — a  man  of  extraor- 
dinary eloquence,  wonderful  reach  of  thought 
and  power  of  moral  impression.  He  was  an  invalid 
confirmed,  a  helpless  invalid,  confined  to  his  bed  the 
greater  part  of  the  week  in  acute  suffering.  It  has 
been  surmised  that  the  irritation  produced  by  the 
suffering,  the  effort  to  overcome  it,  the  rebellion 
against  it,  stimulated  the  magnificent  eloquence  that 
was  a  power  and  a  glory  in  his  day. 

People  say  :  If  these  men  were  so  brilliant  when 
thus  disabled,  what  might  they  not  have  become, 
had  they  been  blessed  with  full  capacity  ?  Perhaps 
nothing  at  all.  We  might  never  have  heard  of  them. 
The  possibility  is  that  the  great  Pascal,  vexed  with 
many  cares,  never  might  have  written  his  extraordi- 
nary books,  but  for  the  disease  that  drove  him  back 


15 

upon  himself,  and  irritated  to  unnatural  activity  his 
nervous  system. 

What  is  the  inference  for  all  this?  That  sick- 
ness is  better  than  health?  Would  it  be  well  for  us 
if  we  all  had  disease  of  the  spine,  were  all  confined 
to  our  chambers  ?  Not  at  all.  It  is  not  the  limita- 
tion in  itself  that  is  helpful,  it  is  not  the  sickness  that 
works  the  miracle ;  it  is  the  effort  to  overcome  it,  it 
is  the  necessity  which  the  barrier  imposes  of  pushing 
through  a  narrow  gorge  into  activity.  Looking  at 
it  closely  we  see  how  sickness  furnishes  the  con- 
dition under  which  we  acquire  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  health.  In  studying  sickness,  we  study  the  con- 
stitution of  the  human  frame.  In  learning  how  to 
avoid  sickness  we  learn  how  to  maintain  the  frame 
in  its  norma]  condition.  Not  until  we  shall  have 
exhausted  sickness,  not  until  we  shall  have  learned 
at  every  point  to  meet  and  put  it  away,  shall  we  en- 
joy perfect  health.  Health  is  an  acquired,  not  a  nat- 
ural possession ;  an  achievement,  not  a  gift ;  in  order 
that  we  may  appreciate  it  we  must  earn  it,  thus  win- 
ning little  by  little  the  right  to  faculties  whose 
hardly  conquered  value  will  be  too  precious  to  waste. 

Take  another  illustration,  the  clogs  of  circum- 
stance,— poverty,  obscurity,  the  narrow  lot, — what 
complaint  we  hear  about  these  limitations  !  If  we 
could  only  abplish  poverty,  if   we  could  but  snatch 


16 

people  out  of  the  thraldoms  which  hedge  them  in,  what 
splendid  developments  of  social  life  we  should  be- 
hold I  Should  we?  Is  it  then  true,  that  those  who 
do  not  feel  the  pressure  of  circumstance,  who  are 
neither  poor,  nor  cramped,  whoge  lot  is  not  circum- 
scribed, whose  field  is  ample, — is  it  true  that  these 
are  noble,  generous,  great?  Nay ;  of  tliese  are  the  idle, 
the  improvident,  the  wasters  of  life,  the.  squander- 
ers of  opportunity ;  these  are  the  people  who  have 
so  much  room  that  it  stretches  out  into  wilderness,  so 
much  time  that  the  hours  run  into  one  another,  the 
days  are  blurred,  the  years  spread  into  morasses,  and 
life  has  no  determination  ;  thoy  have  no  time  for 
any  useful  things.  The  cry  comes  from  thousands  of 
women,  nurtured  in  luxurious  homes,  taught  in  the 
best  schools,  favored  with  everything  that  wealth 
and  indulgence  can  bestow,  their  days  unoccupied, 
their  existence  without  a  ripple — the  bitter  cry  is 
heard,  a  cry  of  weariness  and  almost  of  despair, 
"  Give  us  something  to  do  I  Find  us  work  or  we 
perish."  They  are  pining  away  because  they  are  not 
under  limits.  Their  field  is  too  large  for  their 
cultivation.  One  of  the  problems  of  society, — one 
of  the  sore  problems  just  now, — is  to  assign  a  limit- 
ation, to  set  up  an  obstacle,  to  appoint  a  task  for 
precisely  this  class  of  people  who  at  present  have  no 
limitation,  no  task,  nothing  to  resist.     The  people 


17 

who  complain  that  they  have  no  time,  are  people 
whose  time  slips  away  because  there  is  nothing  to 
stop  it.  Do  you  want  a  thing  done?  go  to  the 
busiest  man';  never  to  the  idlers.  He  has  no  leisure, 
he  never  learned  the  art  of  detaining  the  moments. 
With  him  it  is  "  water,  water  everywhere,  and  not 
a  drop  to  drink."  The  man  is  drowned  in  the  flood 
of  being,  he  is  torn  to  pieces  by  his  own  dogs ;  he 
is  rotted  out  by  the  amplitude  of  his  circumstances. 
Clog  is  opportunity,  hinderance  is  help,  obstacle  is 
furtherance. 

It  has  been  stated  somewhere  that  for  four  gen- 
erations in  England,  no  man  became  eminent,  as 
lawyer  or  physician,  who  had  inherited  an  income 
of  .£200  a  year.  See  what  narrow  and  circum- 
scribed conditions  men.  must  be  placed  in.  Not  a 
man  in  England  whose  desire  raved  against  those 
narrow  boundaries !  So  many  cattle  browse  con- 
tentedly in  these  little  pastures.  No  impulse  to  over- 
leap the  walls  of  so  close  a  sheep-fold !  So  cramped 
a  space  sufficient  for  their  longest  excursions  !  It 
speaks  poorly  for  the  development  of  human  nature, 
but  there  stands  the  fact,  that  until  one  comes 
against  a  boundary,  until  one  feels  the  pressure  of  a 
wall,  he  is  unconscious  of  the  awakening  of  power 
in  himself. 

The  soldiers  of  Hannibal,  the  Carthagenian  gen- 


18 

eral,  one  of  the  greatest  soldiers  of  history,  had 
crossed  the  Alps  in  mid-winter,  had  defeated  the 
Romans  in  battle  after  battle,  had  shown  themselves 
all  but  invincible,  through  their  perfect  valor  and 
discipline.  They  came  to  Capua,  the  most  luxurious 
city  of  Italy,  and  a  single  winter  in  that  delicious 
climate  broke  up  their  discipline  and  undermined 
their  strength.  They  were  ruined  by  ease.  Yet 
they  were  the  same  men  they  had  been ;  they  had 
the  same  sinews  ;  they  had  the  memory  of  their  past 
battles ;  the  lessons  of  their  previous  training  were 
fresh ;  but  the  stimulus  of  necessity  was  wanting. 
Had  a  foe  sprung  u23on  them  they  would  have  rushed 
to  their  arms  and  proved  themselves  once  more  in- 
vincible. No  foe  appeared,  and  the  silken  sinews  of- 
fered no  combat  to  iron  men. 

The  opportunit}^  of  Moses  was  the  abject  condi- 
tion of  his  people,  their  ignorance  pride  and  supersti- 
tion, the  necessity  of  keeping  them  forty  years  under 
training  in  the  wilderness  before  they  were  fit  to  en- 
ter the  promised  land.  But  for  that  stern  necessity 
we  might  never  have  heard  of  Moses  the  law-giver. 

The  opportunity  of  David  was  the  jealous  perse- 
cution of  Saul.  Had  he  stepped  easily  into  his 
throne,  he  would  hardly  have  thrilled  his  nation 
with  the  songs  that  make  him  immortal. 

The  opportunity  of  Jesus*  was  the  exceedingly 


19 

narrow  circle  of  the  national  ideas  ;  the  stubbornness 
of  prejudice  and  dogmatism  that  ruled  the  men  of 
his  generation,  drove  him  back  upon  himself  and 
made  his  thoughts  gush  like  fountains  from  the  re- 
cesses of  his  heart.  The  bigotry  of  his  people  crys- 
tallized his  qualities  into  saintliness.  Their  contrac- 
tion was  the  occasion  of  his  grandeur. 

The  opportunity  of  Cromwell  was  the  desperate 
condition  of  England  at  the  time  when  he  lived, 
and  the  absurd  stupidit}^  of  King  Charles. 

The  opportunity  of  "Washington,  was  Valley 
Forge ;  the  divisions  among  the  people,  scantiness 
of  war  supplies,  the  unwillingness  of  the  States  to 
send  men.  That  great  will  made  itself  great,  manu- 
factured its  greatness  in  the  terrific  laboratory  of 
his  country's  distress.  Washington  would  never 
have  achieved  his  renown,  might  never  as  a  charac- 
ter have  existed,  but  for  that  stern  necessity ;  the 
man,  the  human  being,  never  might  have  been, 
but  'for  these  terrible  oppressions,  these  stubborn 
limitations,  these  grim  opportunities  that  men  call 
dangers,  which  harrassed  him  on  all  sides,  thrust  him 
back  upon  himself,  shut  him  up  as  in  a  cell,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  push  out  his  possibilities  or  die. 

The  opportunity  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  was  the 
narrowness  of  his  lot,  his  poverty  and  abjectness, 
the  miserable  character  of  his  associations,  the  dearth 


20 

of  society,  and  the  necessity  there  was  upon  him, 
being  shut  up  in  this  small  pen-fold,  to  get  himself, 
out.  His  next  opportunity  was  the  angry  debate  on 
the  question  of  slavery  ;  and  last,  the  rebellion  of  the 
slave  power  against  the  constitution.  But  for  this. 
Abraham  Lincoln,  never  would  have  been  devel- 
oped, would  never  have  lived  as  the  man  we  know. 

A  generation  ago,  we  were  complaining  of  slavery 
If  we  could  only  have  this  incubus  off  our  breast 
what  a  leap  our  nation  would  make  towards  its  glory ! 
To  what  heights  of  attainment  we  should  at  once 
spring ! 

We  perceive  now,  that  it  was  the  incessant  fret 
and  friction  of  slavery,  its  relentless  pressure,  its 
stubborn  determination  that  we  should  have  no  life 
of  our  own,  its  unscrupulous  crowding,  that  com- 
pelled us  to  summon  from  the  depths  of  our  hearts 
all  the  manhood  that  was  in  us  ;  educating  the  stern- 
ness of  our  justice,  maturing  the  vigor  of  our  hope  ; 
compelling  us  to  study  the  very  root-principles  of 
our  institutions. 

What  then?  Are  evils  good  things?  Are  or- 
ganized wrongs  beneficent  ?  Not  in  themselves. 
They  serve  us  simply  because  they  compel  us  to  re- 
act against  them,  and  only  as  they  compel  us  to  react 
against  them  ;  but,  as  they  so  compel  us,  they  are 
good.     They  are  educators  of  power. 


21 

Could  the  reformer's  dream  as  Ijy  a  miracle  of 
Providence,  be  realized  to-day,  the  vision  of  the 
lover  of  peace,  the  hope  of  the  patriot,  the  aspi- 
ration of  the  philanthropist ;  could  poverty,  guilt, 
crime,  serfdom,  war,  be  abolished  at  a  stroke,  should 
we  find  ourselves  at  the  end  of  our  attainment? 
Should  we  be  as  great  as  we  should  seem  ?  Nay,  we 
should  relapse  rather.  We  should  simply  be  re- 
manded back  to  Eden  ;  and  what  sort  of  a  condition 
for  living  men  would  that  be  ?  A  condition  of  un- 
developed possibilities.  Eden  was  but  a  baby-house. 
Adam  and  Eve  were  children,  and  not  very  hopeful 
children,  either;  without  experience,  conscience, 
ambition,  desire,  sympathy,  moral  power,  or  moral 
aspiration, — children  sporting  in  a  garden,  with 
nothing  to  do,  not  even  fruits  to  tend  or  vines  to 
train.  Their  sin,  as  it  has  been  called,  was  the 
evidence  of  their  virtue.  Their  rebellion  was  the 
reaction  against  their  limits,  which  showed  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  man  and  woman ;  their  sudden  expul- 
sion thrust  them  out  into  the  privilege  of  their  awful 
opportunities.  That  expulsion  from  Eden  with 
the  waving  sword  of  the  cherubim  before  the  gates 
was  an  angelic  call  to  them  to  be  man  and  woman ; 
and  that,  from  thenceforth  they  began  to  be.  Would 
3^ou  restore  that  paradise  ?  Were  the  dream  of  the 
reformer  to  be  fulfilled  this  moment,  it  would  be  re- 
stored. 


22 

The  vision  of  heaven  as  it  has  been  entertained 
by  orthodox  believers  time  out  of  mind,  is  a  place 
much  like  Eden,  where  there  is  nothing  to  do,  no 
more  body,  and  no  more  business,  no  more  tasks, 
no  more  limitations,  no  more  being.  The  task  of 
divines  has  been  to  find  employment  for  the  people 
thus  released  into  vacancy;  it  was  not  easy;  being 
unable  to  find  useful  occupation,  they  could  think 
of  nothing  but  to  sit  on  thrones  and  sing. 

The  popular  heaven  is  a  heaven  of  pure  oppor- 
tunity without  a  clog  or  a  fetter ;  no  walls,  no  ob- 
stacles, but  then,  no  humanity.  By  carrying  the  here 
into  the  hereafter  we  make  the  hereafter  blessed. 

Lastly,  the  clog  of  theology,  the  stumbling  block, 
of  bigotry,  the  barricade  of ''dogmatism  ;  fixed  ideas, 
fixed  systems,  bad  beliefs,  let  us  consider  all  this. 
What  complaint  there  is  of  the  disability  which 
they  impose  on  the  human  mind !  What  sorrow  to 
endure  them,  what  suffering  to  overcome  them ; 
what  quenching  of  the  spirit  from  their  gloom  !  What 
fatal  discouragement  to  timid  thinkers  and  tender 
hearts !  Yes,  it  is,  indeed,  true  that  bad  theologies 
have  done  fearful  mischief  in  the  world,  in  the  way 
of  tormenting  bodies,  misleading  minds  and  crucify- 
ing souls,  bad  beliefs  respecting  God  and  the  Future, 
the  soul ;  its  destiny  and  its  experience,  have  pro- 
duced their   share  of  personal  and   social  misery ; 


28 

there  is  no  telling  the  woe  and  sorrow,  and  calamity, 
that  they  have  caused. 

But  there  is  another  side  that  is  worth  consider- 
ing. False  religions  have  had  this  use  and  value, 
that  they  have  educated  the  human  mind  in  faith 
and  courage  as  sweeter  beliefs  never  could  have 
done, — hideous,  barbarously  cruel,  as  they  have 
been  ;  the  more  cruel,  the  more  hideous  and  barbar- 
ous, the  sterner  and  more  persistent  has  been  the 
reaction  of  the  human  heart  against  them.  They 
have  thus  been  the  compulsory  salvation  of  man- 
kind, an  unwilling  education  in  thought,  and  yet 
more  in  endurance  and  heroism,  in  hope  and  moral 
perceptions,  in  unselfish  devotion  to  principle  and 
respect  for  man's  nobler  part.  That  we  have  souls 
to  call  our  own  is  due  to  the  spiritual  foes  that 
would  have  enslaved  our  spirits.  We  owe  a  debt  to 
the  worst  religions  that  have  been  on  earth,  that  can 
never  be  discharged,  never  fitly  spoken  of. 

The  theology  of  New  England,  as  it  was,  explains 
the  moral  growth  of  New  England.  Hard,  acrid, 
angular,  how  many  tender  bosoms  have  been  bruis- 
ed against  it,  how  many  delicate  consciences  and 
sensitive  souls  have  been  wounded  and  struck  to 
death  by  its  sharp  points  !  And  yet,  what  a  disci- 
pline in  thought  it  was  !  For  when  men  were  hedged 
round  as  with  a  line  of  fire  by  these   tremendous 


24 

dogmas  of  predestination,  depravity,  atonement,  liell, 
it  was  imperative  that  they  should  resist  and  react  ; 
reaction  in  favor  of  rational  liberty  of  mind  could 
not  be  prevented.  Somebody  thinks,  questions, 
doubts,  denies,  a  conflict  is  brought  on  between 
spirit  and  letter,  the  result  of  which  is,  that  we  now 
are  able  to  meet  here  as  we  do  from  Sunday  to  Sun- 
day, entertaining  in  peace  our  own  sincere  thoughts. 
A  frequent  subject  of  complaint  is  the  disadvantage 
of  having  been  trained  under  orthodox  theories,  the 
drawback  it  was  to  have  been  nurtured  in  these  grim 
beliefs  of  the  Puritans.  In  many  cases  it  is  undoubt- 
edly a  heavy  incumbrance.  In  some  cases  it  has  been 
a  lifelong  impediment  to  clear  and  insjDiring  beliefs. 
The  creed  has  been  a  strong  sepulchre  for  the  soul  ; 
the  barrier  has  pressed  too  close,  and  the  man  has 
been  suffocated  within  the  close  cavern  walls.  But 
again,  in  other  cases,  the  theology  has  been  a  means 
of  intellectual  training ;  a  cultivation  of  the  religious 
sentiments,  an  education  in  meekness,  patience  and 
sincerity.  The  people  who  have  gone  through  that 
training,  and  have  come  out  of  it,  who  have  grappled 
with  it  and  thought  it  out,  who  have  inherited 
it  and  outgrown  it,  whose  root  of  character  is  there 
while  their  branches  spread  out  in  the  sunshine  and 
air  of  the  newer  thought,  are  among  the  sweetest, 
truest,  fairest  people  we  know. 


Our  own  MiUi'i'^dii.  (Hif  ot'  ilu-  !o\(!ic-;i  of  li^iir.';" 
iiifU.  iiolil'j  in  coiiM.-iiMir.-.  U'lwlrr  ill  litarl.  illiMiii- 
iiaU'il  ill  reason.  iir(>;i.il  imhI  il.i irate  in  ^pii  i;  iiai  \  i-i'  in. 
liad  lielnnd  him  tiulil  u'eiieralions  ol' (lc\  oiii  oi'i!i«Ml(ix 
clei";4'ynu'i[.  It  was  ili,'  (•(lu^f-irntioriS  ciVnrt  (li'iiiox' 
]tious.  paini'al  iiieii.  to  liii<l  nut  the  trulli  wiiliiii  tlie 
linnts  a[ipoi!ite(l  to  tlieni.  to  lit;' [.pie  \\i!!i  tin-  terrilile 
qtiesticms  w'liifli  tlieit  a;4e  prdixijiiided.  and  toan.-wer 
lliem  as  they  could.  iV'Cijiie  Vvlio  are  l^rou^lit  up 
otitside  of  tile  old  tLi'oloL.''y.  \\ho  A\'ere'  Ijorn  into 
]^iberalisni,  witlioitt  pergonal  know  led;_;e  of  tlie  older 
faith — havin;.;'  no  problems  thrown  dovrn  Ijei'ore 
them,  and  eons(;(|uently  hein;_;;  di-i.-JKir^'eij.  froni  the 
dtity  of  ttirning  them  over,  aretem'pted  never  to  a>k. 
and  failiup,'  to  ask.  Ix-eome  loi')se  llaeeid  and  indolent  in 
their  minds.  We  have  to  e^tninre  up  for  them  injw 
qiiestions.  to  Ijrinu'  forward  new  [inihlems  that  will 
take  the  place  of  the  giim  old  provocative.-  their 
fathers  knew. 

There  is  grottnd  tlierefore  l\ir  sayinu' that  the  clog 
is  the  0}>]iortttnity.  In  setting  tortli  siu-h  a  doctrine 
we  are  indttlging  in  no  paradox.  It  is  froni  no  anIsIi 
to  entertain  a  cnrions  intellectual  speculation  that 
the  position  is  taken.  It  is  a  grave  and  serious  luat- 
ter.  involving  one  of  the  primdjiles  of  tlie  new  relig- 
ion, and  conveying  a  praciical  hint  of  the  ftitttre  it 
opens  and  the  method  it  employs. 


26 

For  this  new  religion,  which  represents  the  world 
as  a  system  of  opportunities,  life  as  a  process  of  de- 
velopment, experience  as  a  series  of  growths,  which 
teaches  that  difficulty  creates  energy,  and  energy  im- 
pels advance,  and  advance  contains  the  future  in 
itself,  would  substitute  for  the  complaint  of  life's 
misery,  congratulation  upon  life's  occasions.  Instead 
of  saying, — "  Oh,  for  the  wings  of  a  dove  that  we  may 
fly  away  and  be  at  rest !"  its  devotees  express  a 
warm  and  hearty  sense  of  gratitude  that  they  are 
here,  that  theirs  is  the  day,  the  freshly  bestowed 
morning,  friendship,  love,  duty,  hopeful  tasks,  and 
happy  achievements.  The  lesson  of  the  new  religion 
is  that  all  is  opportunity.  To  learn  that  lesson  well 
is  to  learn  the  lesson  of  the  perfect  faith. 

\ 

Tor  life  is  good  wliose  tidal  flow 

'riie  motions  of  God's  will  obeys  ; 
And  death  is  good,  that  makes  us  know 

The  life  divine  which  all  things  sways. 

And  good  it  is  to  bear  the  cross, 

And  so  the  perfect  peace  to  win. 
And  naught  is  ill,  nor  brings  us  loss. 

That  brings  the  light  of  heaven  in. 


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